


Weather With You

by Evening42



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Accidents, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, References to Depression, Storms, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2019-11-21 11:45:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 40,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18141767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evening42/pseuds/Evening42
Summary: "The man’s arms dropped slowly to his side and he didn’t speak, just looking at Phil, the glare fading from his eyes. Phil opened his mouth to speak again but was stopped by the sudden realisation that firstly this man was gorgeous, and secondly that his eyes, despite the depth of colour, were the most dead and cold that he had ever seen, the previous glare the only speck of emotion present. His mouth remained open as he struggled to regain his thoughts and calm his now wildly beating heart, a sudden large breaking wave the only thing that brought him back to his senses."Phil moves to an isolated cottage to start his dream of writing a novel. He meets a mysterious silent stranger on the beach who has a tragic history.





	1. Storm

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually my first fic. I started writing it mid last year, and decided to wait to publish until I'd mostly finished it. I've only got a few chapters left to write. Chapters will be published every few weeks when I have time to edit. 
> 
> Title from the song of the same name by Crowded House
> 
> Thanks again to @capriciouscrab for continual encouragement and reading it through!

The storm had raged all night with torrential rain that blasted the windows and wind that howled through the gaps under the doors of the weathered beach house. The ocean had matched the ferocity of the storm with waves that crashed all the way over the rocks below the headland, over the wide expanse of sand on the beach, and almost up to the start of the pathway up the hill that led to the track along the headland and to the single cottage set back against a copse of immense dark trees.

Phil, who did not like storms at the best of times, had shivered under the blankets in the single bedroom whose windows normally provided a peaceful vista out onto the ocean. Despite closing the windows tightly and drawing the thin curtains as firmly closed as possible he could still hear the pounding of the rain on the panes of glass and on the tin roof, and the shriek of the wind as it pushed its way relentlessly into every crack into the house throughout the night. Sleep was impossible, and Phil thought back to his decision of a few weeks ago, starting to regret that he had given up his comfortable flat in London with central heating for this ramshackle cottage at the beach.

The decision had seemed ideal at the time. A sum of money had made its way to Phil from a distant relative’s estate. Phil had leapt at the chance of giving up his dreary job as a journalist’s assistant to write the novel he had always planned. London, with its many distractions, was deemed unsuitable for writing. Naturally of a solitary nature, the idea came to his mind of moving somewhere peaceful near the sea, but far enough away from civilisation to not have to interact with too many people. So, Phil had googled isolated beach locations, finally deciding on one that was not too far from London yet far enough away so that he wouldn’t be tempted to skip back to London on a whim.

The beach house had seemed perfect. It was a decently long although manageable walking distance to a small village store and was far enough away from any other houses that Phil was not worried about having to interact with any neighbours. In fact, the cottage was several kilometres to the start of the town border. Luckily too it was the only house on the ridge overlooking the beach, with just enough space for 1 person and a vista over the wide expanse of ocean unmatched by any house he had viewed so far. The house had come at a cheap price due to its distance from civilisation and although it was normally rented out for short holiday leases, the landlord had granted an exception for the “nice polite young lad” who had pleaded with him, espousing how perfect the location was, and telling him excitedly about his plans to write the next best seller.

The tiny cottage had bright whitewashed walls and a high pointed roof. The rambling relics of a previous owner’s attempts at a small cliffside garden took up most of the space around the house, the sad shrubs and previous flower beds succumbing a long time back to the salt air. Inside, however, was bright and cheery, the white walls continuing inside through a bright blue door with bright splashes of matching blues and contrasting yellows from the furnishings inside. The cottage was fully furnished and contained a single small bedroom to the left of the door inside, a small ensuite bathroom with a bath connected to a large metal tank outside for rainwater, a small but cosy lounge room with an open fire place and next to it a large comfy blue sofa perfect for late night reading. He had fallen in love with the small table next to the wide window in the lounge which looked out over the small green headland and ocean, the table just large enough for his laptop and books.

Phil had moved in the very next week, managing to find an acquaintance to take over his lease in London, storing all his larger belongings and bringing only essentials. “The less distractions the better” he thought as he reluctantly stored his X-box and games, knowing that if he brought them along he would never start the novel. Moving in to the beach house had seemed like a breath of fresh air both literally and figuratively to his stagnant life, inspiration striking hard as soon as he had moved in. The first few chapters of the novel flowed quickly, especially as the cottage had limited and intermittent mobile reception, so Phil was unable to distract himself much with his phone. The lengthy periods of writing were broken up by walks on the long sandy beach below the cliff. The weather, for winter, had been relatively mild with only occasional periods of light rain. Until the storm hit, Phil had thought that his situation was now ideal.

The weather reports had warned of the storm of the decade. Phil had prepared the house as much as he could, but as the storm hit he had realised that the house, which had seemed so perfect before, was not so perfect now. Small leaks appeared in the windows and roof. It was impossible to keep warm as the electricity had gone off early into the storm’s arrival and Phil had not thought to bring in firewood. The wind howled like a demon, and the thunder crashed overhead. A bolt of jagged lightening hit the headland nearby, with the subsequent immediate thunder overhead loud enough to nearly deafen Phil and bring anxious thoughts to his mind of lightening hitting the actual house. He huddled in bed and pulled the blankets over his head, trying to think of the plot outline of the next chapter of his novel, but it was next to impossible to keep his mind to task. He settled for trying to doze in the brief lulls in the noise outside.

There was no letup in the storm until mid-way through the next day, when the storm died down to a light steady rain with only occasional gusts of wind. Phil was determined to fit in a walk, wanting some fresh air to calm his frazzled nerves. He threw on his warmest waterproof coat and scarf, pulled the hood close over his head and slipped outside, treading carefully down the now treacherous path to the beach, slipping occasionally on small mudslides which had washed away part of the path. On reaching the beach, he was glad to find the tide was out leaving more of the sand to walk along rather than the pebbles at the base of the hill. Wizened curves of driftwood and clumps of brown leathery seaweed were scattered over the beach expanse. As Phil weaved his way amongst them towards the opposite headland his eyes were drawn to a distant dark figure standing on the rocks at the end of the beach. The figure was dangerously close to the edge of the rocks, where the thundering waves crashed intermittently over, drawing anything in their path back into the foaming water. The man, as Phil now discovered on walking closer when he could see more clearly through the rain, was dressed all in black from head to toe, a large knee length jacket left undone to the elements with no hood for protection. He faced away, looking out to sea with hands in his pockets and coat billowing behind him, and did not move an inch despite the steady rain and wind blowing into his face.

As Phil approached the end of the beach and stepped onto the rock platform which abutted onto the looming headland, he saw a particularly large wave crash only metres from where the man stood. To Phil’s horror the man did not move at all and the wave barely missed dragging his motionless form out off the rock platform.

“Hey!” Phil yelled. “Get away from there you idiot!”.

The words were lost in the wind which had now picked up speed again and which was trying to drive him backwards. He broke into a jog, fighting to stay upright and just managed to keep his balance across the slippery rocks. He reached the man with a struggle and grabbed onto his shoulder to warn him, slipping in a rock pool at the last moment and falling into the man’s solid form. The man wrenched sideways, nearly losing his balance himself, and quickly turned, his hands catching onto Phil’s coat and gripping strongly.

“Sorry,” Phil gasped as he regained balance. He looked upwards, only to see a shocked glare aimed at him from deep caramel brown eyes, bordered by wet dark curls and framing lightly tanned cheeks. Phil rapidly decided he was probably around the same age, maybe a little younger by the youthful appearance of his face.

“What the hell are you doing so close to the edge, you could be sucked into the ocean at any moment!” Phil yelled, stepping backwards to avoid another wave.

The man’s arms dropped slowly to his side and he didn’t speak, just looking at Phil, the glare fading from his eyes. Phil opened his mouth to speak again but was stopped by the sudden realisation that firstly this man was gorgeous, and secondly that his eyes, despite the depth of colour, were the most dead and cold that he had ever seen, the previous glare the only speck of emotion present. His mouth remained open as he struggled to regain his thoughts and calm his now wildly beating heart, a sudden large breaking wave the only thing that brought him back to his senses. As he broke his gaze away from the man’s eyes to judge the closeness of this new wave, the man suddenly launched himself into a fast walk, brushing past Phil’s shoulder close enough to nearly knock him over again. As Phil turned to look after him with wide eyes, he saw the man striding out across the beach, his stiff form whipped by the coat lashing around his legs, walking fast enough for Phil not to want to try and catch up. A sudden squall of rain and a crash behind him made him suddenly realise his own danger, and he quickly followed the disappearing black form back along the beach. By the time he had reached the base of the hill, the man had totally gone. Phil quickly made his way back to the beach house, now shivering as the rain seeped through gaps in his coat and scarf.

Much later, Phil continued to shiver under blankets wishing for the return of the heating, the electricity for which had still not been restored. The storm had now picked up again and continued to rage, blowing the ocean into a frenzy; the relentless pounding of the waves filling his ears. To distract himself he let his mind drift back to the beach and to the man whose cold, yet beautiful eyes were now firmly fixed in his thoughts. Phil wondered what had happened to bring the man to such a state that he risked his own safety on the rocks without seemingly to care. Why had he been standing there in the rain so close to the edge? Why had he stormed off without a word? As the late afternoon wore into night, Phil’s thoughts continued to tumble with no answers forthcoming, the swirling wind matching his troubled thoughts.


	2. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A further meeting still gives Phil no answers.

The storm had gradually died down over the next few days leaving the beach torn and broken; part of the dunes below the hill had washed away and driftwood and great clumps of seaweed littered the beach. Rain continued to fall and the wind kept company in gusts and squalls which kept the temperature near to freezing. 

Phil longed to get out for a walk again, telling himself he really needed the exercise, but secretly wishing to see the caramel eyes that haunted his mind again. The man’s icy yet beautiful eyes had inhabited his thoughts frequently as he struggled to keep his mind on his writing. Although the man had not seemed to want any interaction at all, Phil told himself he wanted to apologise for startling him and nearly knocking him into the pounding waves. It was only polite, he told himself. He must have completely scared the wits out of the man with his ever-present clumsiness. He hoped he was a local. If he was a tourist there would be little chance of seeing him again. 

When the rain squalls finally gave way to a light rain, Phil grabbed his coat and scarf and made his way down to the beach. He was disappointed to see it empty of any other person, the seagulls the only inhabitants as they wheeled and cried eerily above. He paused to watch them as he reached the base of the cliff, admiring their freedom and ease in ignoring the rain showers whilst performing great arcs in the sky. Phil slowly turned and wandered along the beach, the walk to the opposite headland taking twice as long as he had to dodge around the immense entwined clumps of green-brown kelp blocking his way. 

As he reached the rocky base of the headland and walked carefully around the rock pools full of anemones, limpets and small knotted bunches of seaweed, he took careful note of the waves crashing at the edge of the rock ledge. The waves were not quite as high as when he was previously here, but he took care not to go anywhere near where they were breaking. He could see the attraction of why the man had been standing here – the regular crash of the waves was hypnotic and the light spray hitting his face from the occasional gusts of wind was refreshing. He spent longer than he expected watching the waves cycle back and forth below the ledge, moving back to stand partly hidden beneath the cliff under the headland to avoid another brief squall of rain. He remembered the dark figure standing at the ledge in rain worse than this. Again, his thoughts tumbled around in cycles, mirroring the turbulent ebb and flow below the rock ledge. Thoughts of returning along the beach only came to the surface when the cold rain started blowing sideways, seeping through the gaps in the scarf and trickling down his neck. 

Phil turned to start heading back, stopping dead in his tracks and partially hidden by a curve in the rock as he saw a familiar tall figure nearing the end of the beach, head bent down, and hands pushed into his pockets for warmth. He was wearing the same rugged black open trench coat and no hood. Black seemed to be the favourite colour scheme as he was again dressed head to toe in the colour. Black hoodie with a band logo, black skinny jeans and heavy black boots which raised his height even further. He hadn’t seemed to have noticed Phil as he strode up and on to the rocks, heading straight for the edge of the ledge again, his gaze finally raising up to look far out into the grey waves. 

Phil watched his motionless form for several minutes, feeling more and more like he was intruding as he examined every curve of the lightly tanned skin of the man’s face, framed by curls dripping slowly with the rain. Phil had thought he had remembered everything about the man’s features from his near constant thoughts over the last few days but realised that his memories were entirely inadequate to do justice to the man’s near perfect form. Although covered mostly by the trench coat, his tall frame was thin but not too angular, his hips showing slight curves still. Phil’s gaze travelled up and down, finally raising up to the man’s face again. The curves and angles of his face were expressionless still, and although Phil couldn’t see all of his face, he spent more time memorising every feature he could see. Shifting awkwardly as he realised how invasive he was being, he dislodged a rock with his foot, gasping internally as he watched the rock clattering noisily down into a rock pool, squashing an anemone with a large splash. Phil immediately crouched down to move the rock off the anemone and as he straightened back up he saw the man had turned to face him, his gaze startled and then incredulous as he realised Phil must have already been standing behind him on the rock platform. Phil flushed as he realised how bad it must have seemed for him not to have made his presence known before. 

“Sorry,” Phil muttered, the redness creeping further up his cheeks as the man didn’t say anything in response, just continuing to look him up and down with his now cold and angry stare. 

Phil gathered his thoughts and took a chance, making his way across the ledge to where the man was standing, stopping when the man flinched back nervously as Phil stumbled slightly on the slippery rocks. He took a breath, and spoke, hoping yet not expecting a favourable reception.

“Look, I’m sorry I crashed into you the other day, but I was just worried about how close you were standing to the edge. It seemed like you were going to be swept away at any moment, and I didn’t want to have to jump in after you.” 

A glimpse of what looked like pain flashed through the other man’s eyes, and he turned his eyes downwards to look at the rock shelf below. Phil paused and after receiving no response he tried valiantly again to rally his thoughts but couldn’t think of anything interesting to say as his mind was distracted again by the man’s stiff countenance and obvious lack of enthusiasm for talking. 

“I’m Phil,” he settled for, rambling nervously on into a long-winded explanation of why he was there on the beach and why he was staying in the area, trying to fill the awkward silence emanating from the other man. He drifted off eventually into silence as he realised the other man wasn’t going to speak and didn’t seem welcoming at all to the idea of company or conversation. Phil’s normally adequate socials skills crumbled under the weight of the man’s continuing reticence, his anxiety levels rising to overtake the embarrassment of before. 

“Well, I’m sorry again, for troubling you I mean….” Phil said hurriedly. “I guess I’ll just be going now. Got to get back into writing again,” he said with a false attempt at brightness. 

He edged backwards a few steps, realising how risky that was as his foot hit another slippery patch of rock, and turned to leave, taking one last glance at the man who was now watching him leave. As his head turned to look at the way forward onto the beach, he thought he saw in a brief second the man’s shoulders slump and his eyes dim slightly as he turned himself to look back out to sea. Phil paused and wondered whether he had imagined the slight down-turning of the man’s lips, or whether it was just wishful thinking, as he was stilled filled with an insatiable desire to get to know this mysterious man better despite the lack of encouragement. He decided he hadn’t imagined it – the man had seemed for an instant to be disappointed with him leaving, so Phil turned and made his way back to the still form, nervously keeping an eye on the waves which seemed to be increasing in strength again. 

“Hey, are you coming back? The rain seems to be getting harder and you look even wetter than I feel,” Phil said, trying to keep his voice light, anxiety though still creeping into the undertones. The man whipped his head back sharply towards Phil, as if he hadn’t expected him to still be there, but once again said nothing, seeming to consider his words in surprise. Phil wondered whether to try to say something again, losing his nerve as the silence stretched on tortuously. Just as Phil was about to give up and turn away, a huge wave that neither had seen crashed only metres from their feet. Both gasped as the spray drenched them, Phil edging away and turning quickly to walk back onto the beach. As he jumped onto the wet sand he glanced back again and was entirely surprised to see the black coated figure following a few metres behind. 

Phil continued to walk, his feet sinking into the sand as he brushed the rain out of his eyes, which was now blowing into his face. He looked back occasionally as the man continue to follow. His head was turned down but he was seemingly oblivious to the small waves crashing into his sodden boots. Phil slowed to let him catch up, but the man took no immediate notice, remaining lost in thought. He wondered whether to leave him be but decided he had nothing to lose. The awkward silence in Phil’s view was worse than the risk of trying to make conversation again. Thinking hard for something to say, he stumbled into a large slimy patch of seaweed, nearly falling flat on his face. A strong hand grabbed onto his elbow to steady him. As he regained his footing, he glanced towards the figure beside him, hoping he hadn’t looked too ridiculous, only to see the man looking at him bemusedly with his lips twisted into a small smirk and a brief hint of amusement in his eyes. When the man realised his gaze was being returned, he immediately removed his hand and looked down at his feet, striding out again amongst the numerous scattered obstructions littering the beach and much more sure-footedly than Phil could ever hope to be. Phil, encouraged, took a few small jogging steps to catch up and blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. 

“Hey, did you know kelp grows in forests under the ocean? I’ve seen it on nature documentaries and it looks so beautiful. It’s sad to see all this kelp on the beach and not living under the ocean where it should be. I really wish I could see it one day, but to do that I’d need to learn how to scuba dive and that’s just such a freaky thought that I don’t think I could ever do it as I’m scared of swimming in the ocean.” 

Phil paused his train of thought to take a breath and heard a small snort beside him. He risked a small glimpse sideways, taking heart from the man’s slightly less cold expression and another small twist of his mouth. As they continued to walk side by side along the beach, he launched into a detailed description of the latest David Attenborough nature documentaries he’d spent the winter watching. He got no reply to any of his attempts at conversation, but he pushed on anyway deciding that if there were no objections then he might as well keep trying. By the time they reached the end of the beach he had moved bravely on through the topic of animal documentaries and the ethics of nature parks and zoos, pausing occasionally to allow time for a response which never came. 

As Phil scrambled inelegantly up the dunes and to the top of the hill, he paused to catch his breath, watching the man’s lithe form step powerfully upwards behind him, the wet trench coat clinging to his legs. Phil suddenly found himself wishing he could see more of form beneath the coat and had to stop himself from drifting into sudden fantasies. On reaching the top the man stopped and looked briefly up at Phil, his face expressionless again, but with a hint of nervousness behind the eyes half hidden behind long lashes. Phil thought about asking him to join him for a cup of coffee, wanting to persist in trying to break open the air of mystery surrounding the silent countenance before him. 

“Do you want to….”

Phil stopped with his mouth open as the man wheeled around without saying a word, walking quickly away along the path that led along the cliff edge. He tried not let disappointment fill his mind, watching for a brief time the figure growing smaller into the distance. He told himself that it was just disappointment from the lack of company recently, although he wouldn’t normally have minded. Phil sighed and turned back to the nearby cottage, jogging quickly up the steps and looking forward to the warmth of the living room with the small fire left burning in the grate. As he closed the door he didn’t see the still figure of the man watching him from a careful distance, or the downcast expression that filled his face as the rain came down harder making small rivulets down the curves of his face. The man stood looking bleakly until he saw Phil come close to the window again. With a grimace he turned and strode quickly off over the crest of the next headland. 

With his hands held cupped around a steaming cup of double strength instant coffee, Phil watched as the figure finally disappeared. He had thought their eyes had met momentarily and his heart stopped briefly in his chest, however he knew it was impossible from that distance. Totally confused, he stood there for long minutes replaying the last hour’s events in his mind. He told himself he had no reason to be disappointed that the man had not wanted to take up his offer of further company. He probably had things to do, a job to get to, more urgent tasks to do than hanging around with a stranger who had just spent the whole walk along the beach talking his ears off and likely boring him senseless. Phil hovered between feelings of embarrassment at how much he had talked out of sheer nervousness, slight indignation at the lack of response which his own politeness told him should be been forthcoming and curious concern about the man’s obvious nervousness on top of the hill about being potentially asked to stay contradicting the almost yearning attitude he had thought he had noted from the window afterwards. 

He left the window only to sit down at the small table on the other side of the room to try again to unsuccessfully gather his thoughts and put the remainder of the afternoon to good use by starting on the next chapter. The enigmatic face, however, kept returning to his mind so that writing became next to impossible. Phil eventually gave up, instead grabbing a pencil and drawing sketches of the shuttered eyes and the curved twisted smirk on scraps of notepad over and over again until the light faded.


	3. Chance of Showers

Early spring breezes finally cleared away the last of the winter storms, and the final large tide of the season had reversed the previous damage done to the beach. The seaweed had been cleared back into the now calmer ocean and only the driftwood still clung tenaciously to the wide expanse of sand. Regular showers were interspersed with patches of watery sunlight and the frigid temperature gave way to warmer temperatures for at least part of the day. 

Occasional sightseers braved the hill down to the beach, the out of way location making sure that the beach was never occupied for long. Phil started every time he heard a distant voice, surreptitiously moving to the window overlooking the headland but the laughing tones of the visitors never belonged to the figure he was hoping to see. He wondered why the man had made such an impact on him. Certainly, there had been minimal encouragement from him on both occasions that Phil had chanced upon him. He was good looking for sure Phil rationalised, just the type that normally attracted his attention – the long legs and the strong hands which Phil tried not to imagine wrapped around him, the curves and angles of the tanned face, the plump lips which looked entirely too kissable, and the penetrating eyes which haunted his thoughts at every turn. Phil spent entirely too many wasted minutes replaying the glimpses of the beautiful features in his mind. 

The lack of talking, however had Phil concerned. It had been unusual as even the most taciturn of individuals usually succumbed to Phil’s natural habit of chattering away nervously when having to be social and he found himself worrying about why this might be so. Had he talked too much? Had he annoyed the man so much on the first meeting that he didn’t want to get to know him? Or was it something else more sinister? The answers were not forth coming no matter how much Phil thought about it. 

Phil told himself his frequent visits to the window were to check on the weather coming in from the beach, not for any other reason. It definitely wasn’t to see if a black coated figure was walking in his direction from the opposite green headland in the distance. He was slightly frustrated that he couldn’t see the actual beach from his windows, the height of the hill behind the beach cutting off the sandy stretch from view. This frustration was definitely because he wanted to see what height the tide was, no …..not for any other reason he thought. He took advantage of the nearby beach every time he could spare himself from writing. His several walks a day (for the exercise he told himself) resulted in him feeling fitter than ever before, and although his mind still wandered almost obsessively to the person inhabiting the back of his mind, he found his writing improving with the regular exercise. 

Later into the next week Phil had written several more chapters and decided to reward himself with a whole afternoon off by walking down to the beach to do some sketching. This was a rusty skill not practiced for years which was slowly returning with the intermittent rough doodling over the last week or so. He grabbed a pencil, the notepad, and stuffed several small wizened apples into the pocket of his jacket, feeling guilty for not taking the opportunity to walk into town to refresh supplies. The call of the beach and the unlikely promise of seeing what he wouldn’t admit to longing for could not be ignored however. 

Jogging down the path he sunk into the soft sand at the base of the cliff and trudged his way to a spot just below the dunes a small way along the beach. A moderate sized piece of driftwood provided a perfect vantage point for sitting and viewing both directions along the beach and directly out into the sea. The tide was nearly the whole way out and the long expanse of sand glittered in the small rays of sun breaking through the scudding clouds above. Sharp gusts of wind twisted small puffs of sand around his legs as he took his notepad out and started sketching. 

The first couple of sketches of the beach and headland flowed well but there was something missing, a lack of life in the drawings bringing frustration out in Phil’s rough strokes of the pencil against the paper. He huffed as he tore the sketches off the notepad and stuffed them in his unoccupied pocket and instead he watched the tide slowly ebbing away and revealing the craggy rocks at the bottom of the beach. Stumped for something to draw he looked down at his notepad and started idly drawing randomly curved lines which slowly became the angles of a familiar face and hooded pair of eyes. Long minutes passed as the face became clearer, the eyes the focus of most of Phil’s efforts. The crying of the gulls overhead and subtle swish and crash of the waves faded out of his hearing as his whole attention was captured in trying to replicate the troubling expression of his memory. He was so engrossed in the drawing that he didn’t see the black figure walking down the beach and coming slowly closer. 

Small scuffs of footsteps in the sand nearby finally captured Phil’s’ attention as he looked up, his cheeks turning a shade of pink the envy of most sunsets as the object of his portrait attempt came into sudden view. He jumped up, dropping his pencil and stuffing the notebook hurriedly into his pocket. The man came to a sudden halt nearby, nervously twisting the ties of his greatcoat as a single eyebrow raised, eyes watching the sudden disappearance of the notebook. He stepped forward carefully and slowly bent to pick up Phil’s pencil, offering it to him with a slightly shaky hand and then moving back with head now lowered again and foot poking gently in the sand.

“Hi!” Phil said nervously, wondering how much the man had seen of his drawing and hoping against hope that he hadn’t noticed the resemblance. The lack of verbal response was somehow not surprising, and Phil tried again. 

“I’m glad the storms have finally gone, it’s nice to be able to get down to the beach a bit more.” 

The only sound came from the wind gusting through the dunes, although Phil was sure the nervous beating of his heart must drown it out. The man took a small shifted step backwards looking up through his long eyelashes as Phil realised the cold expression of the previous encounter had given way to wary observation. He hurriedly thought of something else to say, inspiration finally striking as he realised that if this man was a regular here then the beach must be a favourite walk of his. 

“I was just going for a walk along the beach. Bit sick of sketching really.” 

This drew a small huff of almost amusement from the man, Phil guessed with mortification that his drawing attempts had not gone unrecognised. Mentally facepalming, Phil gathered his scattered thoughts and took a few steps towards the direction of the far rock ledge, turning to speak over his shoulder in what seemed like a futile hope that his offer of company might be accepted this time.

“Do you want to come with? I could use the company. It gets a bit lonely here sometimes, especially as I’m staying here on my own.” 

The man shifted awkwardly between each foot, seeming to consider Phil’s offer. 

“Of course, you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Phil said hurriedly, not wanting to seem too forward. He’d almost given up, his embarrassment giving way to gloomy acceptance of a solo walk along the beach, his brief hopes dashed into pieces. Suddenly, however, a small shrug of the man’s shoulder drew his attention and to Phil’s surprise long legs quickly overtook him down onto the firmer sand. Phil’s mouth dropped open, and he realised he was expected to follow as a brief questioning glance backward met his widened eyes. 

Phil hurried to catch up, admiring the way the open trench coat revealed more of the lithe outline than had previously been shown. Phil admired the long strides with the heavy boots leaving impressions in the wet sand, the casual flick of the dark head as curls were tossed back, the hands shoved casually in the deep pockets of the trench coat. As his gaze travelled up to the side profile now next to him he realised that small surreptitious glances were being thrown his way, although as the man realised he was being watched he immediately dropped his eyes. Phil decided he must be not a particularly social type either the way his gaze was never returned for long, let alone the lack of talking. 

“I’m Phil. I think I said that last time, sorry. What’s your name?” Phil said abruptly.

He waited for a response and watched carefully as the man opened his mouth to presumedly say his name. He seemed to try and form a word but shut his mouth with a grimace and a small bleak shake of his head.

“Silent type eh? I don’t mind ….really ….if you don’t want to talk. We, we… can just walk if you like….Or I can talk and you don’t have to? Although really…. I think I talk too much sometimes,” he stuttered out. A careful shrug again of the man’s thin shoulders and a tilt of his head encouraged Phil more than anything so far as they walked quickly but steadily down the length of the beach.

Phil tried several times to engage the man beside him in conversation but failed each time. Eventually falling into silence, he took to looking sideways again in pretence of looking out to sea. He found himself wondering what it would be like to see the now grim set of the man’s mouth curved into a smile instead. He felt it would light up the cool features and decided he very much wanted to see that happen. He racked his brain for things to say that might be amusing and started talking light heartedly about the trials and tribulations of packing up his house, how his dad would have been horrified to see his dismal attempts at fixing a few minor things about the cottage, and the horribly embarrassing incident with the storage unit men which Phil normally shuddered to even think about. 

The anecdotes seemed to be working as the stiff and slightly hunched shoulders next to him slowly relaxed, small smirks played around the lips and even occasionally a small snort of amusement could be heard. Phil was glad his attempts at interaction were finally getting somewhere although he wondered how many stories he would have to get through before he could finally encourage the man to talk. He wondered what his voice would sound like, what kind of accent he would have, but then worried that maybe he didn’t have a voice at all. Had he lost it in an accident? Had he been sick? Or worryingly did he just choose not to speak? 

As this last thought pushed through into the forefront of his brain Phil realised that they had been quiet for the last 10 minutes or so and then became anxious about the silence surrounding them, feeling discomfort with the effort of trying to find more humorous tales. He was luckily distracted from worrying anymore by the realisation that they had reached the end of the beach. He considered jumping up on to the rocky platform in front, but a sudden squall of wind with a few spits of rain made him think again. 

“I think I’m going to turn back. It looks like it’s going to rain.”

The man hesitated for a few moments, looking between Phil and the rocky platform. Decision reached, he jumped up and turned back to face the beach. Phil felt a pang of disappointment that the man presumedly didn’t want to spend more time with him but pushed it down and raised a hand to wave goodbye. He gasped as a lean hand reached in his direction, grabbing Phil’s hand in his and pulling him strongly up onto the platform. The warm hand lingered a few seconds too long before being abruptly pulled away. 

“Ok…” Phil said slowly. “I’ll come for a bit but I’m blaming you if it rains and I get wet. I only just dried out this jacket from last week.” 

The man rolled his eyes and nimbly stepped between the rock pools towards the edge, Phil trailing carefully behind. As they reached the edge, Phil stopped a few metres behind, nervous despite the lack of waves that day. The man had no such qualms, standing close to the drop before him and fixing his gaze on the far horizon. They stood in silence for a bit, Phil not wanting to interrupt the obvious concentration and the forbidding set of the face which had returned as the minutes stretched. 

The air grew colder and the light started to fade as the late afternoon sun crept further behind the dark bank of clouds scudding in from the ocean. The small spits of rain now spattered intermittently on the rocks and disturbed the smooth surfaces of the rockpools into small repetitive rings. Phil shivered, wishing he had brought his raincoat, but he hadn’t planned to be out this late. He shoved his hands into his sleeves, but the cold air still seeped through the thin fabric of the jacket, cutting through to his skin. He decided enough was enough. He had to walk back and warm up but lingered a few minutes more, not wanting to leave now that he finally had made some progress with communication, even if it was one-sided. 

“I really have to head back – I’m freezing. Are you coming?” Phil said softly. 

The lack of response caused him to think he hadn’t been heard and he repeated the statement, with the gaze finally turning from the grey-green depths of the sea to look curiously into the similar colours reflected in Phil’s eyes. Phil raised his eyebrows waiting for a response, and finally the man dropped his eyes and shook his head. Phil sighed, not looking forward to the long walk back alone under the darkening rainy sky. 

“Well then you definitely owe me one for getting me wet again.” 

A glare was shot his way, followed by a slight softening of the eyes as they caught sight of Phil’s face and lips turning blue. 

“Maybe…,” he paused to consider what to say next. He wanted some more time and the light-hearted conversation earlier had got the best response yet. “Maybe if you want… I’m here walking most afternoons. If you feel like some company tomorrow, then feel free to join me?” 

The man’s lips parted, and eyes lifted with something akin to astonishment as if he hadn’t expected that offer at all. In the darkening light Phil thought he caught a glimpse of glistening eyes before a small nod was given. The trench coat swirled as the gaze was returned out to sea. Phil, feeling a warm glow in his chest, said a soft farewell and hurried off the ledge and onto the beach. He decided to run back, groaning as his cold and stiff muscles creaked into action. The rain continued to fall heavier and heavier throughout the duration of his jog along the beach and he was soaked through by the time he staggered into the cottage. 

As he grabbed some towels and dry clothes and jumped into a steaming hot shower, he thought about the offer he had made and whether it was truly worth all this effort. After vacillating between the options, Phil’s mind was made up. He had to persist in getting to know the man better. No-one could be this silent without cause, and the hint of emotion seen at the end of their encounter confirmed something troubling was lying underneath. If Phil could help in any way, then it made all the effort in talking without response worth it. The icy gaze set in his memories previously had now been replaced with the soft glistening brown eyes that he had glimpsed momentarily before leaving the rock platform. 

Similarly, the dark gaze that was still directed out to sea was no longer visualising the now grey-black vista before him. Instead his mind was turned inwards, seeing blue-green eyes with flecks of yellow sunlight. A small smile now played on the frozen mouth as evening fell into night.


	4. Partly Cloudy

The next day dawned cloudy and calm. The clouds were high, covering the coast in a light grey fluffy blanket stretching as far as the eye could see. The air was warmer than previously, and hints of sunlight shafted through occasional gaps, bringing the promise of better spring days ahead. It was one of those quiet still days where the air sat heavy, still moisture laden from the previous day’s rain. Not a breath of wind stirred, even later in the day when the normal afternoon breezes would whip along the beach. 

The better weather brought several locals to the beach in the morning, and Phil was slightly perturbed. Visitors to the out of the way beach were usually few, and Phil had not previously minded, even having brief chats if he happened to be outside. However, he would have preferred to be walking alone with his strange companion. More people on the beach might mean having to chat to someone else, and Phil wasn’t sure if that might scare him off. If he happened to show. Phil still wasn’t sure whether the quick nod had meant a definite yes to his offer of a walk, but he hoped to the bottom of his heart that it was so. 

By the time early afternoon came around Phil had worked himself into a state of nervous anticipation. He wasn’t sure why, but his palms were sweaty and his heart beating noticeably in his chest. He grabbed his boots and jacket and fished in his pockets. The notebook had luckily remained dry from yesterday’s rain, although considering his embarrassment of yesterday he vowed to himself to be more careful whilst sketching this afternoon. He stepped outside, closing the door firmly behind him, enjoying the weak sunlight shining in a small break in the clouds above. The beach was deserted he was pleased to see as he jogged lightly down the path, almost stumbling several times as the soft sand collapsed around his feet. 

Sketching went better over the next hour. The calmness of the air meant he could concentrate without having to worry about pencil smudging due to pages being flicked suddenly by gusts of wind. He also had fresh memories to base the drawings on and thoughts filled his head as he tried to pick just one. Eventually he settled on outlining a single darkly framed pencil drawing of his last view of the figure on the headland, trench coat flying out behind him and gaze directed out to the turbulent, restless sea. Time flew as his hand moved over the page, concentration never wavering. He kept one eye, however, on the path nearby so he could be prepared this time hopefully. 

Soon enough, just as Phil was starting to worry that he might be alone for the afternoon, he saw the figure he’d been hoping to see descending the hill. Unlike Phil’s clumsy descent earlier, his steps were sure footed, not needing to flail his arms for balance at all. Phil admired the lean form now facing in his direction, although he was disappointingly still wrapped in the coat, despite the warmer temperature. He walked slowly up towards Phil and stopped before him, head slightly bowed and looking upwards from beneath his eyelashes. 

“Hey,” Phil said softly giving a small wave, having carefully put the notebook out of sight well before the man approached. “How are you?”

Phil wasn’t expecting a response this time, but he was surprised and pleased to see a small smile appear on the man’s face. The icy cold gaze of previous days had given way to a lighter albeit more nervous expression. 

“So, are we walking?” A nod was given in return and they set off down the beach together. 

Phil felt more relaxed as he felt his cautious friendship overtures being returned. He slipped with ease into one-sided commentary on the weather, the cottage and its pros and cons and light-hearted anecdotes about the various locals he’d talked to in the village. On several occasions he caught glances being thrown his way and even a couple of smiles and huffs of laughter at several points. Phil found himself even enjoying the silences when he had temporarily run out of things to say, passing glances between the ocean and his silent companion. 

They reached the rock platform and this time Phil jumped up first, stumbling a little as he bent forwards and placed his hand on the platform to push himself up. He straightened himself and turned quickly to offer a hand up to the man, only to catch brown eyes travelling slowly down and up the length of Phil’s body. As his gaze finally reached Phil’s face, the man’s cheeks turned red as he realised he had been caught staring. Dropping his head suddenly, he refused Phil’s hand and jumped lightly up, walking past Phil hurriedly to his usual vantage point. 

Phil’s heart gave a stutter and he couldn’t believe he’d been checked out. It was quite obvious. Well at least Phil thought so. There was always a chance he could be wrong. The unexpected attention was flattering but Phil wasn’t quite sure how he felt at this point, only that he wanted to get to know him better. If only they could have a two-way conversation. Even a few words would be enough. Phil remained determined to persist in getting some conversation happening at some point. Even if he had to wait indefinitely. 

They spent while looking at the waves, Phil silent as he watched the figure next to him out of the corner of his eye. After a while, feeling bored, he started to explore the rock ledge. He walked to the far edge where he looked over to the next beach. The way was impassable, with waves crashing right up to the cliff. A few small smooth stones lay scattered at his feet and he picked up a few flat ones, turning them over in his hands and running his fingers over the cool edges and curves. Memories of skipping stones into the ocean as child flickered into his mind, including half remembered competitions with his father and brother as to who could make the most skips. He hesitated not wanting to seem childish, but then gathered up a few stones and placed them into his pockets. Looking up he noticed the man watching curiously. 

“Wanna skip some stones? I’m a champion stone skipper from way back.” 

One eyebrow lifted suddenly, whilst the man unsuccessfully tried to suppress a smile.

“What’s wrong with skipping stones!” Phil said half indignantly. “I bet you would like it if you just tried it. There’s a lot of skill involved. I can show you if you like?”

The man now raised both his eyebrows, considering the offer, whilst his hands twisted unconsciously in the lower edge of his shirt. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Phil encouraged, picking up a few more stones. He walked back towards the beach and looked behind him, beckoning with his finger. The man rolled his eyes but followed, not picking up any stones himself but looking more receptive to Phil’s suggestion. 

Phil walked eagerly along the beach, pleased to have something that they could do together that didn’t involve conversation, whilst his companion followed him at a more leisurely pace. They stopped at the middle of the beach where the waves were calmest. Tiny ripples of foamy waves splashed at Phil’s feet, as he moved back slightly to avoid getting wet. He chucked the stones in his pocket at his feet, keeping a small flat one in his hand. 

“Watch what I do. It’s quite simple when you get the hang of it”. 

Phil reached his arm back then threw his hand forward with a flick of his wrist and the stone sped out over the waves with four long skips. 

“I’ll do it again. Watch what I do with my wrist – it’s all in the wrist action.”

A smirk was directed his way. 

“Shut up. Not like that!” Phil grabbed another stone and flicked it out across the waves. Five skips this time. 

“Here…” Phil held out a stone. “Try it and see. It’s fun” 

There were a few moments of hesitation before warm fingers brushed against his and took the stone. Phil watched as a long arm confidently reached back and with a complicated twist the stone flicked far out to sea, with so many skips that Phil lost count. 

Phil’s mouth was hanging open. Another stone followed the first, reaching almost as far.

“You….” Phil shoved the tall frame next to him. “You deliberately let me think you didn’t know how to do it, you…..” 

A warm husky laugh sounded, and Phil jumped, as he looked sideways to meet brown eyes. They lingered looking for a few seconds too long, until the warm fingers slipped into his pocket and grabbed another stone out. 

“Hey! That’s mine! You should have got your own.” Phil tried to grab the stone back and a short tussle ensued lasting several minutes. He ended up somehow pressed close to the man’s warm body, his hands clasped to wrists. Their breaths mingled as they both fought to catch their breath. Phil became slowly aware of the warmth radiating through him as his thigh and chest pressed against the figure in front of him. He wasn’t sure where to look and becoming flustered he ended up looking down. This turned out to be a bad move as he ended up looking at softly parted lips. A longing to press his mouth to them passed like a wave through his chest, and without realising he moved his head marginally forward. A few seconds passed before he came to his senses and looked up to meet warm startled eyes mixed with an awareness at the direction of Phil’s previous gaze. The warm eyes quickly became hooded as distance was quickly placed between them. He let go reluctantly as the man stepped away and flicked the stone way out to the second break of waves, then shoved his hands well down into his coat pockets, making no attempt to pick any more stones up. 

A distance was now carefully kept between them, and an awkward tenseness filled the atmosphere as Phil’s mind tried to come to grips with the attraction still surging through his thoughts. He alternated between regret in not taking the opportunity to lean forwards into a kiss which may or may not have been reciprocated, and remorse for having so obviously done something to make his companion withdraw back into himself. Phil flicked the rest of the stones across the waves, sending them splashing into the ripples near to the beach. His companion didn’t watch, his head and shoulders bowed towards the sand, as he seemingly was lost in thought. The hunched shoulders and bent head persisted for the rest of the walk along the beach, despite Phil’s half-hearted attempts at conversation. 

At the top of the headland, Phil paused wondering whether to say anything or not. He felt ashamed of his momentary weakness which had obviously caused distress, and decided he really wanted to get things back on track. He felt a connection had been made over the previous few visits, and although betrayed by his now certain attraction, he pressed that down away from his conscious thoughts and decided to aim towards being friends if that was what was wanted. He struggled for what and how much to say as he was joined at the top of the path. Phil took a deep breath. Being brave had worked before so he decided to just say what had been on his mind since the awkward moment on the beach.

“I’m sorry if I did something wrong, I didn’t mean to make things…” Phil trailed off as eyes quickly shot to his, boring seemingly into the back of his brain. A breathless silence ensued as Phil wondered whether to continue. 

“I just….” Phil stopped speaking again as a lightly tanned hand started to raise hesitantly towards him, and a finger was placed gently over his lips to silence him. He looked into anxious eyes and parted lips which looked on the verge of forming words. No sound came forth, but the careful lips formed a series of shapes which Phil’s suddenly scrambled brain struggled to put together. The hand was slowly lowered and with a last long look, the black form slowly turned and walked away along the well-worn path along the cliff. 

Phil stood stock-still, watching as the figure became smaller into the distance, his brain now helpfully supplying the words which the man had formed. 

_It’s ok_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On tumblr @Evening42 and twitter @Evening_42


	5. Spring Squalls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains a description of a minor character death that happened in the past. If this might distress you, please don't read this section. I'll mark the relevant paragraphs with ****** before and after. I'll also put a small summary at the end for those that don't want to read that section.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 5 to 9 are entirely due to @capriciouscrab wanting to know more of Dan's backstory and why he wasn't speaking. My original outline didn't contain a backstory at all. It's ended up being a much better story now though - thanks Amy :) 
> 
> This story is now entirely finished, except for the epilogue which I've just decided to write. Chapters will be published roughly weekly, editing time dependent

Phil didn’t see the man for the next couple of days. He watched and waited down on the beach for several afternoons in a row, but the beach remained empty apart from the annoyance of more tourists taking advantage of the finer weather. As his drawing skills slowly improved from the afternoons spent sketching on the beach, his writing suffered and slowed to a halt. Inspiration had been lost to the turmoil inside his mind of warm eyes and skin, and the few rare smiles bestowed on him during the last walk. 

Finally, however, he could delay no longer. Usually he had walked into town several days each week to buy food and supplies, but his regular afternoon walks had stopped this from occurring. He had long since run out of milk and bread and his grocery supplies were dangerously low. After having used his last tin of baked beans and the remaining sadly wrinkled apple for dinner, he decided he would have to walk into town to restock. 

He wasn’t looking forward to the long walk. The house was isolated on the headland, with the nearest town at least an hour’s walk away through isolated farmland. Even the nearest farm was several kilometres away. He regretted his decision not to buy a cheap car, even if had seemed like a sensible decision at the time to avoid spending too much money, to keep fit and help the environment. The only saving grace was that the grocery store did delivery runs several days per week. He decided to buy just enough to keep him going over the next couple of days and splash out on a delivery to stock up more fully. 

Phil grabbed his rain coat and several re-usable bags, closed the door behind him and set off in the direction of the town. The day was almost unpleasantly warm with a heaviness to it brought about by the lack of rain in the last several days. The birds arced overhead, flying between the sparsely scattered trees and hedgerows, and bees hummed between the flowering weeds pushing through the long grass by the side of the road. Normally Phil would have enjoyed the change in scenery but now he resented not being able to be at the beach instead. He watched the road disappearing into the haze ahead, wishing unsuccessfully for a local to come past and give him a ride. No lift was forthcoming unfortunately and Phil was tired, hot and a little grumpy by the time he reached the top of the last hill that led into town. 

He took advantage of the improved mobile reception to ring his parents during the final stretch along the road towards the shops, pausing to grab a cold drink at the café next to the grocery store. His parents voiced their dismay at the lack of contact over the last several weeks, and Phil found himself distracting them with how successfully his writing was going, glossing over the stall of the last few days. He caught up on all their news and gave some updates of his own. He felt reluctant, however, to mention his companion, knowing the concern his parents would feel over his unlikely budding friendship with someone who he didn’t even know the name of yet, let alone their nature and characteristics. He finally ended the conversation with a promise to call more often and stepped gratefully into the cool interior of the grocery shop. 

The shop was a typical country store which sold everything basic in small quantities, but nothing wide ranging or up market. This suited Phil, who found the vast supermarkets of London overwhelming with their enormous range of products and subsequent difficulty in locating items. He was grateful to be able to chat to the grocery store owner and his family, who ran the shopfront and deliveries, getting to know them quite well with his frequent visits over the last few months. The elderly owner, Michael, was garrulous in the extreme, and frequently Phil found out more than he had ever wished to know about the town’s goings on. Today he was pleased to see Michael’s thin and wiry form hovering over a display at the front of the store, stacking sunscreen in hopeful anticipation of warmer weather to come. He had decided he might as well take advantage of Michael’s wide breadth of knowledge of the town’s inhabitants to see if he could surreptitiously find out more about the man in black. 

“Hi Michael. How are things?” 

Phil grabbed a small rickety and rusted trolley from the front of the store, grappling with the bent front wheel which meant a direct forwards route was impossible. He started a sideways walk towards the nearest aisle to start his hunt for supplies as Michael straightened up, clutching one hand to his back and waving the other at him cheerily. 

“Phil, lad! Was wondering when you’d next be in. Thought you might have been running out of supplies soon.” 

“Yes, I’ve been a bit distracted with writing lately and haven’t had a chance to come in.” 

Phil started to peruse the cereals in front of him; the selection was small but at least there were several of his favourites on show.

“You just missed Margie. She was asking after you, I had to say that for once I didn’t know what you were up to!“

Margie was the real estate agent for the town. Phil had first come across her when he’d been looking for a house in the area. She had arranged for him to see the current house and meet with the landlord, all the while probing him for his life history from birth right up to the present day. She was nice enough, but very prone to gossiping. Margie made it her business to know everything that went on in the town, and if she didn’t know she made it her business to find out. If she wasn’t showing houses, then her favourite pastime was to come down to the store to chat to Michael. Between the two of them, there was nothing that escaped their notice and they spent long hours discussing the ins and outs of the town inhabitants.

Phil breathed an internal sigh of relief and didn’t reply. He liked Margie in small doses, but he was not in the mood to be interrogated, especially if it would mean discussing his activities of the last few days. He somehow didn’t want her finding out about his new friendship just yet. It was too new and fragile to be discussed and probed to the degree that Margie would like. 

“Did you have much trouble with the storm lad?”

“A bit,” Phil replied as he grabbed a few more items off the shelves. He described his night of woe with the leaking windows. 

“Ah, old Bennet didn’t do much maintenance in the last few years before he sold the place. Let everything go a bit. Bet you still don’t have the phone line replaced yet, or the hot water heater?”

“The phone line no. But the water heater yes. He must have liked hot showers better than talking to people?” 

“Bennet was a bit reclusive. Liked his solitude. You’d better talk to your landlord about that phone line. Should be replaced. You can’t trust those newfangled mobiles with the reception the way it is out here.”

“Yes, I’ve tried to do that,” Phil sighed as he passed by on the way up the next aisle. “Unfortunately, it seems to be low on the list of priorities for him.”

“Well, keep on at him lad. Don’t want you be stuck with no phone line when there’s another big storm.”

“Don’t worry. It’s just me there and I’m unlikely to venture a foot outdoors if there’s another big storm like that. The last storm was scary enough.”

“You never know lad. You just never know. I remember when the big storm about ten years ago hit. Communications were down all over town. Caused havoc as nobody could contact the emergency services, and people were needing ‘em left right and centre. Thought the council would have put a better phone system up by now.” 

Michael launched into a diatribe against the local council, and each of its members’ ineptitudes, taking the opportunity to lean backwards against the front counter and talk at a willing listener. Phil kept loading the trolley with supplies, pausing to make a comment here and there, as the talk moved on to more general news about who was selling up and who was moving in, likely courtesy of Margie’s last gossip session. As Michael ran out of news about the latest property exchanges and the latest city folk moving in to corrupt the area, and seemed likely to move on to another subject, Phil took the chance to ask what he really wanted to know. 

“Talking of new people in town, I saw someone I hadn’t seen before on the beach near my place the other day. Tall guy, brown hair, about my age and dressed all in black. Do you know who it would be?”

Michael ran a wizened hand through his thick grey hair and thought for a few long seconds, his face puzzled.

“Can’t say I know who that would be. Must be a tourist. Shame Margie’s not still here. She’d know.”

“I don’t think it’s a tourist,” Phil said, forcing casualness into his tone as he grabbed several cartons of long-life milk off the shelf in the last aisle and pushed the laden trolley towards the front to pay. “He’s been there a few times. He doesn’t seem like a tourist. I’ve seen him walking over from the opposite headland.”

Michael’s face suddenly cleared with a jolt of recognition, and he moved slowly round behind the counter. He seemed to be thinking hard, as he started ringing up the contents of the trolley. 

“Dressed all in black you say? Tall young man?” 

“Yes. I was just wondering as I said ‘hello’, but he didn’t seem to want to talk. Mostly people have been really friendly around here, and I wanted to make sure it wasn’t something I’d done….”

Phil was interrupted by a click of Michael’s fingers as he snapped them together. 

“Ha, you nearly had me there. Thought I was going senile for a minute. Couldn’t think who you meant. But when you mentioned the no talking, I suddenly remembered.”

Phil waited impatiently as Michael rang a few more items through the till. He wondered how to phrase his next question without being too obvious, but then couldn’t stand the suspense anymore. 

“Remembered what?”

“Jim Howell’s son. Can’t remember his name. Haven’t seen him in town for a few years. Lives along the end of the next beach to you. Gets his supplies delivered each week, same order every time, under his dad’s account. Never comes into town these days since…..”

Michael trailed off, looking troubled. He rang the large number of boxes of cereal through, stacking them carefully into a dilapidated box at the end of the bench. 

‘Since….?” Phil’s mind was a hive of agitation, sensing there was a lot more to the story than Michael was currently letting on. 

Michael hesitated, for once seeming reluctant to keep talking. His hand slowed as his face became even more uneasy.

“He seemed a bit troubled,” Phil said at last, when it seemed he might not be getting a continuation to the story. He tapped his finger nervously on the bench. “He was standing at the headland at the end of my beach and I thought he was going to fall in, he was standing so close.”

“Ah. Poor lad. Sounds like he hasn’t recovered then.” 

Michael finished packing the last of the groceries in the boxes. He seemingly decided to continue with the tale, leaning on his forearms on the bench and sitting stiffly down on the stool behind the counter. 

“Nasty business that was. He used to go out with young Jonathan Preston. Nice young lad that. Always smiling and a kind word for everyone he met. They were friends through school, then decided to make it official after they finished. Went out together for several years. Nobody could see what young Jonathan saw in him. They were total opposites. Jonathan was cheerful and talked the hind leg off a donkey. He was a keen fisherman and diver. Howell’s son wasn’t into that at all. Bit of a recluse himself like old Bennet and like his old man too, although he was nice and polite enough when he did come into town. Don’t think he liked fishing much. More into art and them computers I heard. He used to paint on that beach of yours when Jonathan was diving for ormer. Best place to find ‘em, off that headland at the end. Didn’t want to dive himself, but always kept Jonathan company on the beach, no matter the weather.”

Michael sighed heavily, rubbing his face with his hand as he paused to take breath. 

Phil waited, wondering what had happened. Something bad had to have happened, the way Michael was talking. Did they break up? Did Jonathan move away? He hoped it wasn’t something worse. His companion’s odd behaviour and reluctance to talk was starting to make sense if there had been a tragedy of some kind. He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and watched as Michael gathered his thoughts. 

*******

“It was nearly this time of year about three years ago,” Michael continued softly, staring now into the distance and not noticing as Phil shuffled closer to hear properly. 

“Jonathan had gone into dive for ormer off the headland on your beach. Young Howell was waiting on the beach as always. When Jonathan hadn’t come back after a couple hours and a storm started to come in, he started to get worried. Started searching the headland. Went over to the next beach in case he’d come in there. Nothing. He even went into the water himself looking, nearly drowned himself as the storm had hit by then. Heard from Dr Geoff McGregor that he was beside himself, screaming at the police to do something when they eventually came after old Bennet raised the alarm. That was hours later of course. Bennet had to drive to the next farm to call for help, so by the time the search party came it was nigh on dark and too dangerous to do more than look up and down the beach.”

“That’s awful!” 

Phil felt sick. He could tell by the way Michael’s face had dropped further that the outcome to the story was the worst imaginable. He didn’t know whether he could continue to hear the rest, and thought about interrupting to take his leave, but Michael continued without seeing the mirroring distress on Phil’s face. 

“They searched for a few days. Howell kept searching long after the search parties gave up. He didn’t want them to stop. He was furious, Bennet said, but after 3 days….well. They found the body a few weeks later several miles down the coast. Howell hadn’t given up hope, but when the news came in Dr Geoff said he was inconsolable. Refused to see anyone and shut himself away. Blamed himself for not raising the alarm earlier apparently, even though it wouldn’t have helped. Hasn’t spoken to anyone since I don’t think.”

Phil felt tears pricking his eyes as he swallowed and tried to take some deep breaths, willing himself not to throw up on the floor in front of the counter. Despite not knowing Howell at all well, he could tell that this tragedy was still affecting him greatly. No wonder he wasn’t speaking. The pain was still lurking behind every small smile and laugh that Phil had tried to drag out of him. 

“Sad you say that he’s still going to the headland….” Michael continued, looking back to Phil again, however finally noticing his distress and straightening up. “Don’t you worry lad, it was a long time ago. There’s nought that anyone can do about it now.”

“Does he have anyone with him? Anyone to take care of him? Surely someone must be looking out for him.” 

“Don’t think so. Jim Howell died about 6 months after, and he hasn’t a mum around. The Prestons moved away soon after it happened too. Couldn’t stand living with too many memories. There’s plenty around here that would have taken care of young Howell had he wanted it, but unfortunately he pushed everyone away.”

*******

“That’s so awful,” Phil said again. 

He didn’t know what to say next, clutching the empty trolley instead like a lifeline. Taking a deep breath, he dragged his hands off the trolley and got his wallet out and gave Michael his card, keeping silent as Michael swiped it through the machine. 

“There you go. I gather you’re not going to carry all this back yourself. Delivery later this afternoon? We’ll leave it on the doorstep if you’re not there. Do you need to take anything with you now?”

Phil didn’t think he could eat a thing, his stomach still churning in distress. 

“No thanks, I’ll be ok.”

“Well if you see young Howell again, maybe you can have a word to him. Lord knows he could probably do with a friend his age again. You never know, he might respond better to you than others in the town. Well-meaning they are but there’s always whispers behind his back.”

Phil grimaced, seeing the irony of this statement, having spent the last ten minutes doing exactly that. He waved away the receipt, and turned to leave, saying a quick goodbye as he saw Michael gearing up to continue the conversation which he now could no longer stand. He grabbed a bottle of water from the café next door and set off back down the road. The now cooler air was a relief, a squall of rain passing quickly overhead as he walked slowly home. Phil didn’t notice as he was too caught up thinking about the awful story he’d just heard, not even bothering to put on his raincoat, the sleeve of which dragged un-noticed behind him. 

For the first half of the walk his mind went over and over the words he’d just heard. The story replayed again and again in his mind, the screaming figure on the beach imagined in his mind and interspersed with flashed of twisted pain in the face that had become so familiar. He was tempted to never seek out the black figure again, fearing that he would just make things worse as he had so obviously done on the beach the last afternoon they’d met. Later in the walk however, as his mind slowed with exhaustion, remembrance of soft smiles replaced the horrifying visions his mind had created. He had seemed to get some response in the last walk, even if there had been no talking. Maybe he should persist? Michael’s instructions to try talking to him filtered back into his mind. Although if he hadn’t spoken for 3 years then what hope had Phil of getting him to finally speak? Should he even try? Was his friendship even wanted? Phil now refused to think of anything more than friendship, blocking from his mind any thoughts of the urge to kiss that he had nearly succumbed to. 

His mind was no clearer by the time he reached the white-washed cottage. Throwing himself on the couch as soon as he entered the cottage, he closed his eyes and took some deep breaths hoping to supress his thoughts with a nap. Sleep remained elusive, however, and his cyclical nightmarish thoughts continued long into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Phil finds out that Dan's ex-boyfriend Jonathan died in an accident, and Dan apparently feels responsible. He hasn't spoken since then and lives as a virtual recluse.


	6. Light winds, clearing to a fine afternoon

A few more days passed. There was still no sign of a black coated figure along the cliff path, and Phil had avoided going to the beach, not sure of what he would say or do if he saw him again. He hadn’t managed to come to any conclusions after hours of thinking. After some largely sleepless nights he had vowed to try to stop over-thinking the issue, instead trying to concentrate on writing. 

The words did not flow as smoothly as before. A middle novel slump had resulted in scrapping of the entire last 2 chapters, Phil not being happy with direction the novel had taken previously. Rewriting a different direction had meant detailed planning instead of the random thoughts which had flowed so easily before. Phil’s brain hurt from the excess concentration he was now forced to spend in rewriting something that was now not so enjoyable. After a particularly fruitless hour spent with only a brief paragraph to show for it, he crashed his fingers onto the keyboard producing a string of random letters and followed that with a bang of his forehead to the table. He groaned as the cool wood eased the slight pain now throbbing in his forehead. Regret was too strong a word, but writing was definitely not fun at the moment. 

A soft hesitant knock sounded at the door, startling Phil as his heart leapt into his throat. There was no-one that he expected to be knocking at his door. Michael’s son Adam had delivered his groceries several days ago as planned and he hadn’t organised another delivery, wanting to keep to himself for a few days. Phil leapt to his feet, knocking over his chair in the process. Not bothering to pick it up he strode to the door, unclicking the latch and pulling the door open. Expecting to see a lost tourist or one of the local farmers, he was shocked to see a familiar figure clothed in the same long black coat, foot scuffing nervously at the doormat and head bowed. 

Lost for words, Phil didn’t say anything for a moment. His heart felt like it was going to beat itself out of his chest and his palms felt clammy. Brown eyes were finally turned upwards to meet his. 

“Hi,” Phil finally managed to say.

Of all the people he had expected to see at his door, he was not one of them. Remembering his manners, he opened the door wider. 

“How are you? Do you want to come in?”

A shrug followed this question with a quick questioning head jerk towards the beach. 

Phil hesitated but only for a second. Some of his earlier questions had been immediately answered by the unexpected appearance at his doorstep. Friendship must be an option surely. He felt a small ray of hope bloom in his chest, as he stepped back from the doorway. 

“Sure, just wait a sec. I just need to find a jacket or something. Come in for minute while I find one.”

Phil gestured towards the lounge, as he headed into the bedroom. After grabbing an old Mario Cart hoodie he had lying on the floor, a relic from his sorely missed gaming days, he headed quickly into the lounge. 

The still figure was standing next to the window body faced like he had been looking outwards across the smooth expanse of ocean beyond the edge of the headland. However, his head was turned looking down at the still open laptop, brows drawn together as he presumably looked at the mess of letters jumbled on the page where Phil had last left it. 

“Yeah that’s my novel I was telling you about. I’m glad you came actually because I’m really stuck on where to go with it. Today is definitely not a good writing day. So, a walk on the beach sounds like a great idea.”

Howell had turned quickly as Phil started speaking, cheeks slightly flushed as embarrassment hit at having been caught reading what was probably not meant for him to see. His eyes quickly brightened, however, looking down at Phil’s faded hoodie. He walked cautiously forward and as he neared Phil he reached a finger out to trace down the characters on the front. He stepped awkwardly back again, raising his eyebrows in an unspoken question. 

“Do you play? Mario Kart I mean?”

A small nod followed. 

“I left my Xbox and Playstation behind when I moved here. Thought they might be too much of a distraction for writing. I really miss them though.”

The questioning expression opposite turned thoughtful and the brown eyes stared past Phil’s left shoulder, seeming to consider an idea. Abruptly he suddenly moved forwards past Phil towards the doorway, turning back to make sure Phil was following. He moved surely out of the door and stood to one side as Phil locked the door. As they walked in the direction of the beach and reached the turning to go down the hill, Phil was startled to feel a tug at his sleeve in the alternate direction along the cliff face. 

“What?” Phil was puzzled, looking for clues in the enigmatic face opposite. 

Another jerk of the head signalled that they were to go along the cliff face instead of down to the beach. 

“Ok, what’s in that direction? I’ve never been that way before. I always get distracted by the beach.”

No answer was forthcoming, and Phil found himself pulled again in the new direction along the cliff. They started walking along the crest of the hill, Phil following cautiously behind along the narrow path. The early afternoon breeze caught in Phil’s hair and ruffled the black coat in front of him, the wind and distant waves below the only sound in amongst the light crunch of their footsteps along the path. The near-silence weighed on Phil’s mind, and he blurted out the first thing that came to mind as he tried not to look at the increasing distance of the beach below him. 

“Must say I don’t like heights. I’ve always been nervous of them, even as a kid.”

A curious look was directed his way as his companion slowed to let him catch up. Phil felt his heart in his throat suddenly as he turned to look back at the path below, trying not trip on the small scattered stones littering the path. 

“Yeah I know. Don’t like swimming in oceans, don’t like heights. It probably seems a bit weird for me to be living right near the ocean and cliff edges.”

A small smile lifted the edge of the now upturned mouth just to the side of him, as Phil turned his head to see what response he might be getting. Encouraged by not seeing any negativity, he continued his train of thought. 

“I do love beaches though. That was the attraction of moving here. I’ve always lived in big cities and so the chance to live near a beach was just the best thing.”

Encourage further by a small nod, he continued chatting about beaches and his annual trips to Florida as a child with his family. Although still not getting any spoken response, Phil found the conversation surprisingly easy as he began to recognise small non-verbal cues and the changing expressions, usually ones of amusement with the occasional eye-roll as Phil outlined his various childhood mishaps at the beach. 

As they eventually reached the next headland the path wound over the crest of the rocky headland and followed along the edge of the next cliff face. The path was narrower and closer to the edge than Phil would have liked. He tried to distract himself by looking at the view ahead. A long rocky beach stretched below the cliff, inaccessible due to the height and steepness of the cliff. A particularly narrow section right next to the unfenced cliff face had him taking a sharp nervous breath and stopping as he tried not to look down to the beach far below. 

Breathing fast as he tried to gather his courage to continue forwards, he felt a cautious hand placed on his arm. Looking upwards he saw the concern written on the face in front of him. He tried to speak, but his vision swam slightly and he dropped his eyes, squeezing them tightly together so as not to look to the side. The hand on his arm was grounding and he concentrated on the feeling of the strong fingers and small patch of warmth they created. A few breaths later he felt the hand lift. He took another large breath, feeling slightly bereft at the loss, only to open his eyes in shock as his left hand was taken in a sure grasp and he was gently pulled to the side away from the cliff face onto the narrow grass verge beside the path. Although he was now nearly pushed into the continuation of the cliff face above, it was a relief to be not so close to the edge. 

“Thanks,” he managed to say, catching his breath and feeling slightly better as he could no longer see the large drop beside him. Howell had placed himself between Phil and the cliff edge. He looked up to find the brown eyes studying his face intently and he watched back, finding the face beside him calming despite the concern still written there. He studied the outlines further, tracing every angle and shadow with his eyes. 

A squeeze of his hand brought him back to reality, and he realised the grasp on his hand had been maintained. Before he had time to wonder what that meant, he was gently pulled forward to start walking. Now they walked along the grass, far enough away from the path for Phil to start to feel comfortable again. His thoughts turned to the hand clasped in his, holding firmly as Phil tripped over several hidden rocks on the way. As the path turned away from the cliff face towards a small copse of trees in the distance, he was directed back onto the worn track. He was disappointed when the hand left his and they continued to walk as before, Phil trailing slightly behind. Phil tried to silence the thought that he would have rather kept holding the hand which had provided such surety. 

He didn’t have much more time to examine his mixed feelings before they came closer to the copse of trees, where he saw a run-down wooden house hidden close to a small road which had wandered in from the main road along the coast. The previously brightly painted house had fallen into disrepair, with peeling chips of yellow paint on the worn boards and leaves filling the overhanging gutters of the house. They left the main path to continue along the small track to the house, stopping at the back door which Phil found to his surprise was not locked when it was firmly pushed open and he was beckoned inside. 

The inside of the house was just as dilapidated as the outside. Bare walls with chipped paint and long made marks, the occasional piece of worn furniture scattered in the shadowed lounge room which had a small kitchenette attached at one end. The place had a darkened hallway leading to presumably bedrooms, the door to which was pulled mostly to. There was an air of general gloominess, exacerbated by the curtains drawn nearly closed against the brightness of the day. 

The back door was firmly shut behind him and he moved hesitantly further inside. His attention was caught by an old TV in the far corner, with what looked like an old Wii unit lying haphazardly on the floor, a few scattered games laying in the dust covering the top of the TV. 

“You have a Wii? Awesome!”

Phil was beginning to realise what the trek across the cliff might have been in aid of. He was gently encouraged towards the couch in front of the TV and pushed to sit down. Noises of cupboard doors opening in the kitchenette proceeded to occur and a few minutes later Phil felt a glass pushed into his hand. 

“Ribena! My favourite. Thanks.” 

Phil drained the glass in one go, placing the empty glass on the floor beside him. He watched as Howell, coat and boots now removed, drained his drink in one go too and moved towards the TV, picking up a few games and dusting them off. He presumably found the one he wanted, and held it out towards Phil.

“Mario Kart! Oh that’s great! Can we play?”

Phil was correct in his thoughts about what was meant to occur, as the Wii unit whirred into life and the game was inserted and set up. The next few hours flew by as game after game was played. Phil was rusty to begin with, losing every game. Gradually however his skills returned so that he began to win occasionally, even resorting to a few dirty tricks to run Howell’s car off the road. As he won again after a particularly effective but slightly less than ethical manoeuvre, he found himself pushed sideways and backwards on the couch, Howell’s frustrated and indignant face appearing above him. 

“If you can’t take the heat, then get off the roadway mate.” Phil laughed as the face above him narrowed. He shifted laughing harder as a finger was poked hard into his side.

“Stop, that tickles!”

Phil realised his mistake as a dangerous smile appeared and he suddenly felt hands all over his sides. He was now laughing too hard to say anything and a battle ensued, Phil being unable to stop the onslaught for several minutes as he struggled. He finally managed to grab both wrists of his attacker in his hands. Breathing hard and still laughing he looked up, only to find the face had fallen still and the smile had been lost. Eyes travelled hotly up and down his now still form as awareness of their close proximity entered both their minds. Phil fell silent as distance was again rapidly placed between them. 

As the silence stretched, Phil looked out the window and realised with disappointment that the afternoon had grown late and the light was beginning fade. He didn’t relish the thought of walking back along the cliff in the dark, so stood reluctantly to take his leave. 

“I’d better go before it gets dark,” he said turning towards the silent figure next to him. “Thanks…”

He stopped in surprise as a hand grabbed him and dragged him towards the door. Was he being ejected? A twist of worry swirled in his brain, even though he knew he hadn’t been at fault for the awkward moment earlier. He was even more surprised when Howell stopped to put his boots and coat on again next to the door. 

“You don’t have to walk me back. Really, I’ll be fine.”

Phil knew he wouldn’t be fine, not wanting to think about the section of the walk that had so terrified him before. He was glad to see that his words had been ignored however, as he was directed out the door, which was pulled closed but not locked again, the black coated figure striding out before him down the path. 

The return walk was quiet, Phil still wondering what to say, if anything, about what had happened before. He hadn’t been the one to initiate contact and he felt like Howell had been finally letting go and enjoying himself before thoughts had presumably interrupted once more. Phil hadn’t missed the obvious brief attraction that had flared before him and wondered if his own face had revealed a similar look. 

They came to the section of path that Phil had been dreading, and Phil moved onto the grass to avoid it, not looking towards the cliff edge lurking dangerously close in his opinion. His heart jumped in his chest yet again as a hand slipped into his, guiding him around the rocky obstructions in the clumps of high grass. He concentrated on the warmth surrounding his palm, not daring to look up or say anything as they moved back onto the safer section of path and his hand continued to be held surely and firmly. It was only halfway back along Phil’s section of beach that his hand was finally dropped. 

As they reached his doorway, Phil turned and gave a stuttered thanks, his heart still running rapidly as he realised how close they were standing again. 

“Do you want to come in?” 

A shake of the head didn’t surprise him, as darkness was starting to fall rapidly. A hand raised in farewell was redirected hesitantly towards Phil’s face and he couldn’t help a small intake of breath as the hand neared his cheek. The hand stopped and instead, he felt a squeeze on his shoulder. The hand dropped reluctantly, as Howell turned to leave and started back down the path. 

“Wait! Maybe… tomorrow afternoon? Do you want to play again? Or you don’t have to have me over ……if you don’t want. Maybe ….. a walk on the beach if it’s fine?

Phil waited, holding his breath as his words were considered, a slow smile creeping onto the face redirected back at him. A nod followed, and Phil smiled in return. With a wave, Phil was left watching as long strides left him alone once more.


	7. Increasingly sunny

The next few weeks proceeded along a predictable routine. Phil tried to write in the morning for a few hours. His companion would turn up after lunch and they would walk on the beach, or more often than not they would trek over the cliffs to continue gaming. There were other games in the house, but Mario Cart nearly always won out. The gaming sessions became longer and more competitive, and Phil found himself looking forward to every afternoon. 

Occasionally there would be no gaming session in the afternoon if either were busy. Phil still had to walk regularly into town to get groceries. Previously he’d enjoyed the distraction and the break from writing, but he found himself more and more annoyed now that the necessity of shopping got in the way of more time with his new friend. Howell was occasionally busy too. He hadn’t found out what he did on those occasions, the lack of verbal conversation preventing any detailed questioning. When not together, Phil found himself distracted and unable to concentrate on writing. He spent those afternoons drawing the familiar face, trying to get the eyes just right whilst he tried to imagine what his name would be. 

He still had not found out the man’s first name. He’d asked a couple of times and had almost received a response, but each time on trying to form the words a look of despondency would strike and the eyes before him would shutter. This would be followed by an abrupt departure, usually cutting short the afternoons activities, or in one case where Phil was at the other house, a stiff silence which was only broken by Phil offering to leave and finally being encouraged to stay by the game controller being placed back in his hand. He hadn’t asked again. 

One fine spring day they had arranged to walk on the beach as they didn’t have enough time for gaming that day. Phil had needed to spend most of the day in town getting supplies and fixing up some bills with the local business owners. Michael had kept him talking for ages longer than he’d wanted. There was a new dog in town, a corgi that Phil had seen being walked past as he’d entered the shop and on making the mistake of asking Michael who’s it was had led to a whole conversation on dogs and the best types. 

Realising the time, he half walked, half ran back to the house, only to find the black coated figure sitting on the doorstep, idly playing on a dilapidated phone. He looked up and smiled briefly as Phil jogged down the path to the house, collapsing out of breath on the doorstep. 

“Sorry. Michael was talking. Couldn’t get away. We were talking about dogs.”

There was a roll of the eyes and a good-natured shove, followed by a hand slipped into his briefly to haul him to his feet. Phil grabbed his bags off the ground and opened the door with his key, shoving them just inside then locking it again. He didn’t want to waste any more time by putting the groceries away. They set off down the path to the beach. 

The day was fine and warm, and Phil was already starting to sweat by the time they reached the bottom of the hill. He decided to leave his jacket at the bottom of the path, quickly taking it off and dropping it on the edge of the sand dunes at the base of the hill, intending to pick it up later. He was surprised to see the black coat drop next to his and looked up to see a faded black t-shirt and slightly tanned arms with hands hooked into pockets. A pang of worry shifted over him as his gaze settled on the thin frame before him. He wasn’t dangerously thin but it was possible he hadn’t been looking after himself. Phil found himself wishing he could be there all the time to take care of him. He was more determined than ever to create some more connection and encourage their growing friendship. He started to walk along the beach, mulling an idea over in his mind. 

Phil had been thinking of ideas of how to potentially encourage dialogue. He didn’t want to pressure but felt it might potentially help if he could at least be on a first name basis and even communicate a little. As they neared the end of the beach he decided it was worth a go. Instead of jumping up on to the rock ledge, he grabbed the hand just in front of him, and stopped, sitting down on the ledge and pulling the man down to sit beside him. A huff sounded as they landed closer than Phil had expected, a warm arm pressing down his from shoulder to elbow. His companion made no effort to move away. Phil, encouraged by this, took advantage of the proximity to move the barest edge closer. 

He grabbed a small thin piece of driftwood lying on the beach close to the ledge and wrote in the wet sand before him, the waves being just far enough away not to wash off the writing. 

_My name is Philip Michael Lester_

Phil took a deep breath. It was now or never. If this didn’t work, then he would give up trying to find out any personal details. He cautiously reached out and placed the driftwood in the hand nearest him, which hesitantly closed around it. After a minute or so of deliberation a sentence was shakily formed in the sand next to his. 

_My name is…..Dan_

_Hi Dan_

_Hi_

_Thankyou for telling me your name_ , Phil wrote. 

There was a pause and then a smiley face was drawn in the sand. 

The next ten minutes was spent with Phil asking general non-specific questions, aimed at not probing too much, whilst Dan decided whether he would answer or not. If he didn’t want to answer a question, he would draw shapes in the sand. Soon the sand around them became filled with half rubbed out words and drawings of seagulls, spirals and shells done by Dan. Despite this, Phil had learned a few facts. Dan was 4 years younger. He was taking a year off from a long-distance degree in graphic design. He was earning a little money by writing and editing student English essays on-line. He liked Muse which had sparked several minutes of animated discussion on the sand about the best album and songs. Phil had in return given out some facts about himself and Dan had seemed pleased to know a few more details, his writing becoming more animated and less hesitant. 

It was amazing how much conversation could be had in a few short words. Phil’s smile grew broader as they conversed, and he found himself pressing even closer unintentionally. Their hands brushed as they passed the driftwood backwards and forwards, and Phil gradually became more aware of the lean body next to his, as Dan provided some welcome shade from the afternoon sun. His fingers lingered as he gave the stick back to Dan, who looked up and paused. Dan’s face was shaded as he looked back at Phil and it was difficult to determine his expression due to the glare of the lowering sun. Phil studied the face, too long for just a friendly look, but he could see that Dan’s face was grave and intense. He wondered what Dan was thinking. He could see that Dan was studying him in return and after a minute or so his eyes settled downwards on Phil’s softly parted lips. 

Phil’s breath paused. He felt a sudden longing to pull the warm figure next to him into his arms. He wanted desperately to know how Dan would react to Phil joining their lips together in a kiss and found himself subtly leaning into Dan a little bit more. He stopped himself though, knowing somehow that it was too soon. He wanted desperately to give in to his new found feelings but he hadn’t had a chance to come to terms with them himself, let alone have time to figure out whether Dan would want to reciprocate. 

He became very glad he had halted himself as Dan, leaning in a little bit himself, suddenly jumped to his feet and took a deep breath. He stood looking out to sea for several minutes whilst Phil anxiously suppressed an urge to apologise for a kiss that hadn’t happened. The lengthening silence both verbal and written allowed time for Phil’s thoughts to spiral out of control. He worried whether he had gone too far even with the sand writing and started to regret the decision to force Dan into opening up. As his thoughts churned uneasily in his head and he watched the still figure before him, he decided to let Dan lead things from now on. He now had a method to speak to Phil if he wanted. Or not. It was up to him. 

A shiver overtook Phil as a cool breeze, started up. The evening chill was starting to set in. He slowly rose to his feet and stretched out his arms, feeling slightly stiff. Dan, hearing the movement behind him, shook himself out of whatever he was thinking about and turned to face Phil, blinking in the sudden change in light. 

“I’m going to head back. Are you coming?”

Dan looked around as before to the rock ledge, then turned to face Phil again. A look passed between them that Phil didn’t know how to interpret. Another intense, considering look that had Phil nervously contemplating turning to walk away down the beach. He held his ground, however, wanting Dan to make the decision without pressure. He was now so glad he had waited, as eventually Dan slowly stepped towards him, still looking into his eyes, and Phil felt a warm hand edge into his. A gentle tug back along the beach ensued as Dan still looked into his eyes, pulling Phil slowly back towards the house. Phil followed, and eventually Dan turned to face the same direction. Their hands remained linked, however, all the way back along the beach and Phil found himself uncharacteristically silent as he contemplated the meaning of this. Dan didn’t seem to mind the silence however, as he gently swung their hands between them, looking determinedly forwards as they strode back down the sand.


	8. Mostly sunny with rain later in the evening

Another few weeks passed. Spring was in full force, with the weather improving immensely. Warmth filled the air, and the beach was invaded on weekends by more frequent tourist visits. Phil found the disruptions irritating as his writing was disturbed by people passing by his house down to the beach. It was also especially annoying as he didn’t want his time with Dan disturbed by others. He found himself asking to go to Dan’s house more often instead of down to the beach, which Dan agreed to readily. As the days lengthened, Phil started staying later and later, only returning to the rental property once dark was beginning to set late in the evening.

Dan still came to get him in the early afternoon on most days, always accompanying him along the cliff path in both directions. He would listen attentively as Phil chattered about whatever was currently occupying his mind, looking at him with an intense interested gaze when he wasn’t guiding them along the narrow sections. Phil was glad of his presence along the cliff and took every opportunity to hold Dan’s hand along the walk, especially past the cliffside edge. Dan seemed to expect it too and would seemingly use the excuse of the nearby cliff edge to force the issue if Phil hadn’t already taken his hand. 

They gradually moved closer and closer as they sat on the sofa at Dan’s house. Originally, they had started sitting on opposite ends, however as the weeks passed, Phil was nervously excited to find themselves edging together. Eventually they sat close enough to elbow each other as they raced each other around the tracks. Phil found himself the subject of many jabs in the ribs, nicely timed to run him off the track if Dan happened to be losing. Phil had no hesitation in shoving him back and more often than not found himself pressed back against the couch by Dan leaning on him to obstruct his view. Phil found himself one-sidedly protesting against cheating tactics as Dan smirked and ignored him whilst continuing to lean against Phil’s side. After a while neither felt inclined to move apart even when the game rounds had finished. 

The conversation had also progressed further. When not gaming, Phil had taken to asking questions and encouraging Dan to write answers written in a small notebook he’d bought especially for the purpose. One that he could keep handily in his jeans pocket and pull out when needed. Dan never initiated the conversation but seemed to more readily agree to writing responses. One-word answers initially, turned into sentences and then eventually into scrawled lengthy replies. Dan even took to keeping a pen in his pocket for when Phil forgot to bring one. 

As a result of all the visits, Phil was coming to be more at home in Dan’s house. He’d even taken to bringing over dinner ingredients in an effort to make Dan eat more. He hadn’t seen Dan eat much whilst they were together initially, but finally after offering to make a home-made pizza on a frozen pizza base, he’d been pleased to see Dan eat more than half the slices. He waved away Dan’s gestures to split the last piece, figuring that Dan needed it more. He took to bringing over packets of pasta and bottled sauce which was about the extent of his cooking skills. Dan contributed by following Phil’s instructions as he showed Phil around the kitchen and helped to prepare the meals. Eventually he started waving away Phil’s offers to bring over dinner and started making simple meals to share. His cooking skills far exceeded Phil’s as he prepared more elegant vegan based dinners that put Phil’s efforts to shame. Phil started watching the preparations and asking Dan to show him more advanced techniques.

Although he tried to put Dan firmly in a friend zone in his head, Dan was now all that filled his mind when he wasn’t writing his novel. He fell asleep thinking of Dan’s now animated face looking back at him. He watched out of the window for long periods when expecting him to appear in the afternoon, flicking through the notebook to re-read the responses and tracing the letters scrawled across the page in a messy handwriting. The drawing art book had been filled to capacity with sketches of Dan’s eyes, his faces, his side profile and the still form that stood upon the rocks on their walks along the beach, which now sometimes occurred later in the evening after Dan had walked him home. He imagined every scene he could think of where he would take Dan in his arms, kiss him breathless and have Dan respond in kind. 

As further weeks passed Dan, however, still seemed oblivious to these thoughts. He was in firm agreement with holding Phil’s hand on every opportunity. It was now accepted that Dan would lean back against Phil on the couch every time they played games with Phil having to play awkwardly around the warm body against him. He watched Phil with furtive intense sideways glances when he thought Phil wasn’t looking. A couple of times Phil had even thought Dan had been about to kiss him but had stopped himself at the last minute. He didn’t seem to want to take their relationship any further. Phil had not pushed it, even though every time he was near Dan now it was torture not to take him in his arms. He still wasn’t sure what Dan wanted and every time he thought that Dan might be ok with being more than friends a doubt would creep into his mind accompanied by an image of Dan’s tragic past. It was decided in Phil’s mind that Dan would have to make the first move if he wanted anything more from their relationship. He didn’t want to lose Dan’s friendship by making a move that Dan may not want, even though he desperately longed to throw caution to the wind and passionately kiss the smirk off Dan’s face on any number of occasions.

Dan was making dinner one lazy night as Phil hovered, leaning on the bench and deliberately obstructing Dan’s path to pantry cupboard so that Dan would have to stretch himself around Phil every time he wanted to get something out. He enjoyed the forced closeness of it. Dan would pause each time, raise an eyebrow and reach slowly around Phil, brushing against his side or his arm. He would slowly pull back with an ingredient in hand, and Phil would hold his breath each time, wanting to close the distance between them but not willing to take a chance. Dan would go back to cooking, as Phil sighed internally and distracted himself by talking about the latest Mario game he’d heard about. 

“it’s got heaps of different levels. Different styles and extra features. I really want to get it, but if I did we’d never get off the Wii.”

Dan nodded in agreement, stirring some vegetables into a stir fry and throwing a quick grin over his shoulder. Dan’s genuine smiles were still rare enough that Phil’s mind faltered and ground to a halt whilst his brain took in every feature of Dan’s face, lit up by the slight glint in his eye and the hint of white teeth that flashed between the smile. Phil took to coping by throwing out an insult to deflect his mind from shorting out. 

“Though, I reckon you might want to practice if we ever did get it. I reckon you’re only superior because you’re used to your old version.” 

Dan threw a glance back, whilst he continued stirring, both eyebrows now raised in bemusement. 

“I’m sure I could beat you hands down on the new version. After all your ancient skills must be superseded by new technology now I think.”

Dan glared back, seemingly to consider Phil’s words. He seemed to make a decision as his face suddenly lightened and a devilish look came to his eyes. He raised the spoon he’d been stirring with and carefully pointed it Phil. 

“Hey! What are you doing?”

With a sudden jerk, Dan’s wrist angled back and then flicked forwards, the sauce on the spoon flying through the air and hitting Phil squarely in the chest. Phil gasped as it oozed down his shirt, leaving a brown stain down half of the material. Dan, meanwhile, punched his free hand in the air, and turned smugly to start stirring the sauce again. 

“Oh my god you idiot. That was one of my good shirts!”

A shrug was the only response. Phil took a few steps towards Dan only to be halted by the sight of the spoon aimed again towards him, Dan’s grinning face challenging him to take one more step. Phil considered what to do.

“I’m going to get revenge, just you wait,” Phil muttered as he grabbed some paper towel from the bench near Dan and started wiping his shirt. It only worsened the stain as it rubbed it further in to the material. Dan put down the spoon into the saucepan, turned down the heat and slowly walked towards Phil. Phil’s face reddened and his heart started beating fast as Dan stopped just in front of him and slowly bent forwards. Was this moment Dan was finally going to take things further? Phil could scarcely hope. His dreams were dashed though as he felt a tug at his back pocket and the notebook was tugged out of his jeans along with the pen he was carrying. 

Dan slowly drew his hand back and shifted the notebook to his right hand as he flicked the pen upwards against Phil’s nose. He stepped back and quickly scrawled some words. 

_you deserved it lmao_

It was Phil’s turn to glare as Dan smirked and wrote something else. 

_dinner is nearly ready get cleaned up in the bathroom then we can eat and after I’ll kick your arse with my ancient skills on the wii_

Dan chucked the notebook on the bench, and then turned and started opening the cupboard nearby to grab out some plates. As he reached up to get something from a high cupboard his shirt rode up and Phil saw a flash of smooth skin extending down into Dan’s tight black jeans, which showed off every curve. Phil felt a sudden tightening in his jeans as Dan then bent over to grab some glasses from a cupboard under the kitchen bench. His mouth suddenly dry and his heart beating even faster, Phil decided to make his escape before Dan turned around and it became obvious that Phil was thinking inappropriate thoughts. 

The bathroom was down the hall past the two small bedrooms whose doors were usually closed. Phil strode quickly down the passage, not bothering to turn on the lights until he reached the bathroom. The mirror revealed his flushed cheeks, and he took a couple of deep breaths to try and calm himself down by thinking about how he had to call his parents sometime in the next couple of days. A small blue towel was hanging near the dilapidated white door and he ran it under the water, scrubbing his shirt firmly with warm water. After getting most of the stain out he turned to start heading down the hallway. As his hand reached up to turn off the light, he noticed that the door to one of the bedrooms was slightly ajar. He could see scattered black items of clothing strewn around the floor. Presumably this was Dan’s room. 

He left the bathroom light on as he quietly walked towards the room, hesitating at the door as he peeked through. A messy bed not made, clothes scattered everywhere, and a laptop chucked carelessly on the pillow half sliding off into the grey and white checkered duvet. It looked like what he would have imagined Dan’s bedroom to be. Monochrome with virtually no personal touches anywhere. He went to back away, feeling awkward about even looking into a space he hadn’t been invited into, when his eyes fell on the bedside table on the opposite side of the bed. A picture framed in a tarnished, silver coloured frame was facing the bed. Phil could just make out two figures captured in the photo. It was a small picture. One taken a while ago if the age of the frame was any clue. 

Phil thought he knew who the figures would be. He considered just closing the door and he hesitated for a long moment, but his curiosity finally got the better of him. He wanted to know more about the mysterious Jonathan who had left such a heavy mark on Dan. As he quietly pushed the door further open, he listened for any sound to indicate that he might be interrupted, but all he heard was clattering in the kitchen as Dan busied himself serving dinner. Already feeling guilty, he slipped inside the room. 

The curtains although closed, waved gently as a soft breeze came through presumably open windows. The atmosphere in the room seemed heavy though. Phil felt that maybe it was his conscience combined with the darkness of the room that was playing on his mind. It wasn’t enough stop him from moving forward, however. 

As he crept around the bed the figures in the picture became clearer. Two boys, one obviously Dan but quite a few years younger and the other a shorter blonde figure, stood side by side with arms thrown around each other. The shorter boy was grinning, tanned and white teethed, the beginnings of muscles appearing on his broad shirtless chest and arms. His hair was swept back into a loose short band and he was wearing a faded cap facing backwards. His arm was thrown around Dan’s waist whilst Dan’s arm was casually thrown across the other boy’s shoulders. Dan was more subdued, but his smile was the happiest Phil had ever seen apart from the one he had shot at Phil earlier in the kitchen. He was more filled out around the face but still slender and was wearing a Muse t-shirt and a pair of ripped black jeans. They looked happy, and Phil felt a sadness settle around him. He didn’t know how he had ever thought Dan could move past this. Such a tragedy to occur when anyone could see they were obviously in love. Phil’s thoughts circled around, imagining Dan and Jonathan together, as he continued to stare at the photo. 

A sudden noise in the doorway had Phil spinning around in horror. His mouth fell open as he saw Dan standing there, white in the face and gripping the door frame tightly. His eyes were wide and pained, jaw clenched, and mouth twisted into a savage curve. Phil couldn’t move. He suddenly felt the full weight of invading Dan’s privacy. Remorse and shame filled him like never before. He opened his mouth to apologise but didn’t get to speak as Dan suddenly strode into the room, around the bed and snatched the photo from Phil. Without looking he slammed it face downwards on the bedside table. A shattering sound was heard, and Phil jumped. Dan winced, and whirled around to pace to other side of the room, a hand pressed against his eyes. 

“Dan I’m so sorry. I…..”

Dan raised his free hand behind him with an abrupt motion, gesturing to Phil to stop speaking. His breath was coming heavily, and his shoulders were shaking slightly as he struggled to get himself under control. Phil waited for a minute, feeling more and more terrible. Dan remained turned away, but Phil could tell he wasn’t calming down. One hand remained covering his eyes whilst the other remained clenched into a tight fist by his side. Phil weighed up whether to wait until Dan was under control or to try and console him as best he could. Considering that he was the cause of his current distress he wasn’t sure whether it would succeed but he couldn’t leave Dan in distress a moment longer. 

Phil hesitantly edged around the bed and cautiously approached. His chest and shoulders were aching from the tension he now carried like a weight dragging him down to the floor. He stopped just behind Dan and took a deep breath, easing it out in a shaky huff as he considered what to do or say. Unbidden tears edged their way to the corners of his eyes, making him realise that he had better do something, anything, before he dissolved into a mess of remorse and lost the chance to apologise. He cautiously raised his hand, stopping briefly as he nearly changed his mind, then placed it carefully on Dan’s shoulder.

“Dan….I’m sorry. I didn’t mean….”

His hand was shrugged violently off, as Dan whipped around to face Phil. His face was still twisted and set. Although it didn’t look as if he’d been crying yet, his eyes were red and it looked as if he were close to tears himself. They stared at each other, Dan still breathing heavily and Phil red-faced, only just holding back the tears himself. An eternity passed as neither spoke, Dan’s eyes boring into Phil’s mortified soul.

Phil couldn’t stand the silence anymore and went to open his mouth to speak. He was cut off by a finger raised fiercely to his lips to stop him speaking. Dan’s other hand raised shakily and pointed him out the door, obviously wanting him gone. An enormity of hurt now filled his eyes, which was the worst of all. So Phil didn’t argue. He stepped back and around Dan and left the room. As he slunk down the hall, he heard the door slam behind him and the violent creak of ancient springs as Dan presumably threw himself down on the bed. 

Phil was devastated. He’d ruined everything by his stupidity. Of course Dan was going to be upset with him poking around his room uninvited. Touching his things. Looking at the private photo of Dan and Jonathan, which must have brought back bad memories. All the work of the last few weeks in getting Dan to open up to him seemed now in tatters. How would Dan ever trust him again? Why had he been stupid as to invade his room? Why hadn’t he just walked away, back to Dan waiting for him in the kitchen? Why, why, why? 

He paced back and forwards across the lounge room until a slight burning smell made him start and he raced to the kitchen. The dinner was sticking slightly to the bottom of the pan. Phil switched off the stove and pulled the pan to one side. He wondered what to do. Dan hadn’t yet reappeared. He wanted to wait until Dan came out, embarrassment though making him hesitant to invade again when Dan obviously didn’t want to talk to him. He started pacing again, his steps taking him nearer and nearer Dan’s room again. His hand tore through his hair, making it stick up in unruly tufts as he squeezed his eyes together to try and block out the memory of Dan’s agonised face. A final turn in his pacing brought him to Dan’s door and he placed a hand out, feeling the cool wood beneath his palm as he listened for any sound.

As he stood there outside the bedroom holding his breath, a muffled sound tore his heart to pieces. It was the soft sound of low sobbing. A lump sprang to Phil’s throat and he turned softly away, tears now starting to fall in earnest. He couldn’t stay any longer when he’d been the cause of Dan’s utter distress. He searched until he found where Dan had dropped the notebook on the bench, tore a page off and stuffed the notebook in his back pocket. He wrote with an unsteady hand a sentence that he wasn’t sure was possible and left the note lying on the floor where Dan would find it when he came out. He pulled his shoes and jacket on and closed the back door behind him. The rain came down heavily as he shifted his hood up and strode unsteadily down the path back towards the cliff. The words on the note echoed in his head and seemed to mock him with their impossibility. 

_I’m so sorry Dan. Please forgive me?_


	9. Fog

Phil woke with a start, his head heavy and aching from a long night spent mostly awake. He turned on his back and rubbed his eyes which felt gritty and sore. As he opened his eyes, he flung one hand out and felt around for his glasses on the bedside table. He pushed them on and blinked his eyes slowly. He stared at the ceiling blankly, his mind finally empty of thoughts. A change from the torture he’d put himself through in the darkest hours of the early morning. 

The walk back from Dan’s house the previous night had been horrendous. Phil had been alone, scared and in the dark with no Dan to hold his hand or light the way with the torch he normally carried when Phil stayed late. He’d crept slowly along the path near the cliff edge, too scared to edge off it in case he couldn’t find the path again but terrified of losing his way and plunging over the cliff face. He was sobbing as he reached the safety of his door and his breath came in huge shaking gasps as he sunk down against the door, too distraught to even think about trying to get inside the house. It was a good quarter of an hour before he could even reach an icy hand into his pocket and pull out the keys to open the door. He’d thrown himself on the bed after removing his shoes, shivering uncontrollably as he’d wrapped himself under the covers as tightly as he could manage. Having his eyes open or closed made no difference. He could see nothing as the blackness of the cloudy night pressed heavily on him. 

The room now was dim, even though it must be mid-morning by now with the rising sun normally streaming in through the gaps in the curtains. Desperate for some coffee, Phil staggered out of bed and pushed the curtains open. A grey wall of fog was in front of him obscuring the normal view out towards the road and blanketing the tall stand of trees nearby. The grass looked damp and wet as if a shower of rain had fallen in the last few hours. This explained the chill to the air as Phil shivered and pulled a nearby hoodie over his clothes that he’d fallen asleep in last night. He strode out into the lounge to light the fire. 

An empty wood box greeted him, as he cursed and regretted not bringing any wood in when he had the chance over the last few sunny days. No use bringing any in now, he thought. The fog and rain would have made the wood too damp. A distant memory from yesterday struggled to the forefront of his brain of the weather forecast being mostly fine for the rest of the week, which clinched his decision to wait and bring wood in later when the weather fined up. Gloomily he dragged the throw off the couch and drew it closely around himself, still shivering as he switched the kettle on. 

As he huddled later holding a second steaming cup on the low seat in front of the window, looking out to where he could normally see the headland, he realised he wouldn’t be able to see if Dan passed by on the way to the beach. Dan….

Dan’s tormented face sprung before his eyes as the brief peace his mind had been in since waking was now shattered. Last night’s scene played in his mind over and over. Dan’s agonised face. The laboured sobs coming from his bedroom. The crack of the picture frame as Dan flung it downwards. The hurt in his eyes as he ordered Phil from the room. How on earth was Dan going to forgive him? Why would he ever want to? Phil’s sin, after the long night of mental torture, seemed unforgiveable. He closed his eyes and placed his forehead on the windowsill as he clutched the hot cup closer to his chest, trying unsuccessfully to summon a memory of Dan’s smile instead. 

As the morning dragged on Phil went back to listlessly lounging on the couch, dozing in and out of a heavy stupor that invaded both his mind and his limbs. The fog outside started to lift gradually with tendrils swirling over the windowsills in the light breeze and sending weakened shafts of sunlight through to the ground below. A ray of faded sunlight eventually crept over Phil’s sleeping face and outlined the darkened shadows lining his eyes. Phil’s stomach growled as he woke with a start, and he realised that he hadn’t had anything to eat since midday yesterday. He threw a hand over his eyes and then punched it savagely into the back of the couch as he remembered he’d put off grocery shopping again for the last few days as well. He’d have to take a trip to the village if he wanted any breakfast or lunch. 

Half an hour later he strode out into the lingering remnants of the fog. The icy droplets of mist swirled bone-chillingly through his clothes, around his neck and into his eyes as he walked wearily along the long road to town. For the first time he really regretted the distance from the house to the shops. He longed for a frequent bus service or even some closer neighbours that he could beg a lift into the village with. He was damp and irritable with a mood gloomier than the outside atmosphere by the time he reached the grocery store. 

The bright lights of the store were welcoming, although the chill of the fog pervaded even into the depths of the small aisles, pushing down the valiant attempts of a small fan heater Michael had running at the front of the store. The heater fan rattled and wheezed as a weak stream of warmth spread in a small circle to include Phil in it as he shut the door behind him. He bent down to rub his icy hands, trying in vain to warm them up. 

Michael was sitting on the stool behind the counter, wrapped in a large puffy coat and a long red and black Manchester United scarf covering the lower half of his face and circled several times around his neck. His hands were wrapped into the ends of the scarf, although he raised one out to greet Phil. 

“Phil, lad. How are you? Haven’t seen you here for quite a few days. Been well then?”

Phil ignored that last question. He didn’t feel like explaining why he didn’t feel well at all. He thought hurriedly for a distraction, to steer Michael’s usually sharp mind away from the sensitive topic. 

“Manchester United? Really? I would never have suspected you were a fan. I didn’t realise you were from around there?”

“No, no,” Michael said gruffly, taking both his hands out from the scarf and tightening it more firmly around his wizened neck. “I’ve always lived around here, but I couldn’t help feeling sorry for ‘em after that plane incident. Supported ‘em ever since.”

Phil’s irritation faded. Michael really was a softie at heart. He couldn’t help feeling a little more cheered by Michael’s unwavering dedication to a team people loved to hate because of an incident decades ago. Although he wasn’t a football fan, he thought back into the distant memories of watching occasional football games with his father as a young child and started up a conversation about the merits of various teams. Michael participated eagerly, relishing the chance to talk about one of his favourite subjects, even to someone who obviously didn’t know much about football. Phil was actually enjoying the conversation until suddenly his stomach gave a large growl and he remembered why he’d made the trek into town. 

“Ah well, I’d better go and get some groceries. I’ve nearly run out.”

“You’d be better off to pay for a regular delivery then, instead of having to walk all that way into town every few days,” Michael offered cannily. “You’d be able to stock up more.”

“I’m not sure I can justify the delivery when I need the exercise,” Phil muttered. Michael’s delivery charges were exorbitant, even for a small town. He was renowned in the area as a shrewd businessman and was obviously taking advantage of the captive market in the surrounding farming community. 

Michael thought for a moment, tapping his gnarled finger on his chin. “Young Howell lives out your way. He always orders by email and gets everything delivered every week. You should combine with him and I could do a deal on delivery.”

At the unexpected mention of Dan’s name, Phil’s breath caught briefly. Flashes of Dan’s face again haunted his mind as his emotions, previously elevated, sunk quickly again into gloominess. A blankness filled his mind, as the heaviness prevented all alternative thoughts from surfacing. He knew the silence was stretching out too long, but he struggled to find words to divert the conversation this time. The struggle in Phil’s mind must have played out on his face, as Michael leaned forwards to speak again, concern tightening his eyes. 

“Are you alright there son?”

Receiving no response immediately, Michael moved slightly to get up off the stool. Fearing a more thorough check was forthcoming and with concern about his ability to remain silent about his troubles with Michael’s perceptive questioning, Phil moved suddenly away from the heater and grabbed a shopping trolley. 

“Yes, I’m fine. Just hungry. Have to get some groceries,” Phil said in a slightly garbled manner, as Michael, still suspicious, continued edging off his stool. 

Phil turned and walked quickly up the nearest aisle, trying to feign interest in the small selection of overpriced cleaning products. 

“Ok well if you need a hand then let me know,” Michael said slowly, obviously still puzzled at Phil’s odd reaction. 

“Thanks, I will.”

Phil moved further up the aisle, away from possible interrogation. Relief filled him as Michael settled back on his stool and grabbed a nearby local newspaper that was lying on the counter. Michael was the kindest person he’d met in the town; he’d been so welcoming when Phil first arrived. Phil normally welcomed his inquisitive questioning as a chance to be drawn out of his near hermit-like existence. However today was not the day Phil wanted to be conversing in any depth. 

Twenty minutes later, Phil had grabbed enough supplies to last him for the next few days, as much as he could carry home. Looking at the laden trolley he was starting to think that delivery might have to be a future necessity. He wasn’t looking forward to the walk home with so many bags weighing him down. The walk was flat for the most part, but half an hour’s walk in the mist and damp laden with heavy bags was not filling him with joy. He walked with lagging footsteps to the front of the shop and started to unpack the groceries for Michael to scan. 

The door suddenly flung open and in barged a person Phil had been hoping not to see today. Margie McWilliams was a formidable sight. She towered over Michael’s small frame, dressed to the nines in a slightly outdated black suit that looked like it had seen better days. Her hair, dyed a vivid blonde to cover streaks of grey at the roots, clashed horribly with the bright blue eyeshadow that looked like a remnant from the 1980s, applied to her drooping wrinkled eyelids in a careless fashion. Her bright pink lipstick was slightly smeared from presumably being hastily reapplied just prior to her grand entrance, and she was chewing the top of a pen. Phil cringed as Margie firmly hung the pen from the lapel of her bright white shirt, leaving a pink mark which she didn’t seem to notice.

“Margie! How are you?” Michael slipped off his stool, creakily standing and holding his back firmly whilst starting to scan Phil’s groceries with his other hand. 

“Michael! And Phil too. How nice to see you both. Such a horrible day outside. I could hardly stand the walk down from the office, but I just had to get out for a while! The town’s deserted today. I didn’t see a single soul on the way down here!”

Margie grabbed Michael’s stool from beside him and scraped it loudly over the floor to the edge of the bench near the heater, setting Phil’s teeth on edge. She parked herself firmly on it as she settled in presumably for a nice long chat. Her bejewelled hand carefully smoothed her skirt down as she looked curiously at Phil, her large limpid eyes scanning him from top to toe. 

“Well Phil. How are you coping all the way out there at the headlands? Is the house treating you well? No problems? Don’t let that landlord of yours get away with anything will you. He doesn’t have his heart in the right place to look out for his tenants.”

“No everything’s fine Margie, thanks for asking,” Phil said dutifully as he started bagging his own groceries, trying to hurry the process up as Michael continued to scan items.

“What’s news then Margie?” Michael asked, as he repeatedly tried to scan the barcode of a large slightly dented box of cereal. 

“Well, Angelica had her baby. Beautiful little girl, about 7 pounds 10 ounces. It was a quick delivery I heard, but Angelica’s always been one for getting things over and done with in a hurry.” 

Margie continued breathlessly to discuss, names, the health of the mother and how the father was coping. Michael didn’t need to do much responding as Margie left no gaps in between her florid descriptions of the delivery complications and Angelica’s subsequent breastfeeding issues. Margie all the while kept her gaze firmly on Phil, as if there was something of interest that was bothering her. 

As Margie ran out finally of things to impart about the newest town member, she took a pause, still scanning Phil up and down interestedly as Michael finished packing the last of the groceries. Phil was exceedingly glad that he had escaped without the usual discussion of some part of his life. He gave Michael his credit card and Michael slowly punched in the details with slightly blue fingertips. As he gave Phil’s card back, Phil placed it rapidly back in his wallet and turned to start picking up his groceries. Unfortunately, he was too late, as Margie turned the conversation to what had obviously been bothering her. 

“Well Phil. I heard that you’ve been seen with Daniel Howell. Quite the friends you two seem to be?”

Phil’s heart gave a lurch. How had they been discovered? They must have been seen on one of their walks by a local. Annoyance set in as he realised Margie wouldn’t rest until she had all the details. He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her, not saying anything as he tried to gather his thoughts. 

“Daniel Howell! That’s his name. I was telling Phil all about him a few weeks ago, but couldn’t remember his name.”

“Ah, poor Daniel. You’ve heard the story then Phil? I’m surprised he’s talking to you now. He must be finally getting over poor Jonathan’s death.”

“No. He’s not talking.” 

Phil regretted saying even that much as Margie’s eyes brightened, sensing a detail she hadn’t expected.

“Well. That’s interesting then. It must be difficult to be with him if he’s still not talking. How nice of you to take pity on him. Goodness knows nobody else has managed to get him to open up since….”

“Yes. Well.” Phil interrupted, not wanting to hear the details that had so distressed him the last time.

“I hope he’s not dragging you to the headland every day with him? He needs to get over it really. Such a shame he can’t move on. Although I guess we have to give him some leeway considering it must be nearly the anniversary of when it happened. In fact, isn’t it this week Michael?”

“It’s today,” Michael said gruffly as he buried his hands inside the scarf again. “My grandaughter’s birthday is tomorrow. That’s how I remember. We weren’t sure whether to cancel her birthday party at the time.”

“Oh, that must have been so hard for you all,” Margie simpered as her attention turned away from Phil. 

“Ah well, not as hard as for poor Daniel. I’m surprised you’re not keeping him company today Phil if he’s finally opening up to you?” Michael’s eyes were boring into Phil’s. 

“He’s not speaking still. I had no idea it was the anniversary,” Phil reminded him, teeth gritted and turning to leave. He was sick of the gossip and questions which he felt were aimed not at sympathy but information gathering. 

Margie leaned forward towards Michael, pointing her hand eagerly as she gestured in time to her tumbling words.

“Well now this all makes sense! Jennifer Appleby passed by the cemetery on the way to the church this morning and saw him sitting by the graveside. Actually out of the house! I was wondering why he’d make the trip on such an awful day, but if it’s the anniversary…well. I don’t think he’s been there since the funeral. Or so Jennifer thinks anyway. He was still there half an hour later when she passed by again. Poor thing, he must be taking it hard today of all days.”

Phil couldn’t stand it any longer. He grabbed all the bags and hauled them up, striding over to the door and pushing through it roughly with his shoulder into the mist outside, as Michael and Margie startled into attention. 

“Phil? Are you ok son? Don’t you want a delivery? You won’t be able to carry all those bags home by yourself. Oh, lad! Be careful, there’s another bad storm coming tomorrow! The radio just announced it.”

“It’s ok Michael, bye.” Phil didn’t look back, not trusting himself to speak any further. 

“Well!” he heard Margie say breathlessly, bemusement and curiosity filling her voice. 

Phil strode off. His anger lasted most of the damp walk home. For once he wished he was safely back in London, despite the crush of the crowds and vast noisy streets. He longed for anonymity and people that didn’t know all his business before he knew it himself. Nearing home with his arms aching, his thoughts turned to Dan, who must be having an even worse day. He recognised with a sinking heart that his embarrassment and shame came second to what Dan must be feeling. Putting himself aside he wondered how he could help. He thought about trying to go over to Dan’s house. Surely he must be back from the graveside by now. The weather was turning more miserable again by the minute. Would Dan even want to talk to him? Or would he want to be alone? What would he want Dan to do if the situation was reversed?

He hadn’t made a firm decision by the time he reached the house. Dumping the bags on the floor and flexing his wrists and shoulders, he then placed all the perishable items in the small fridge and moved the other bags to the kitchen bench to unpack later. He strode over to the window and looked out. The mist still hung over the cliff, but it was high enough now to see a good distance in front of him. He stared into the distance towards Dan’s house as a lump came to his throat, thinking of Dan sitting alone with no-one to keep him company. 

His mind was suddenly made up. He wheeled around to grab his coat and keys and opened the door, slamming it shut behind him. He ignored the rising chill of the later afternoon air, striding determinedly along the cliff path. As he made his way along the track and reached the next headland, he realised the gradually sloping path up the hill had taken him slowly up further into the fog that was covering his way forward. As the dense mist closed around him, he shivered and tried to ignore the tendrils of fear rising through him, mirroring the air swirling around him. His steps slowed as he gradually neared the dreaded section of path right next to the cliff edge. Faltering and coming to a stop, his breaths came quicker as he was thrust back into the terror of last night. He took a few minutes to concentrate on his breathing and tried to summon up the memory of Dan’s hand in his leading him forwards. But it was no use. Shaking, he sunk to the ground, and wrapped his arms around his knees, head bent forwards as the sobs started to tear through his throat and out into the open. 

He sat for about ten minutes, and finally managed to suppress the remaining tears threatening to surface. Determined to try again, he got to his feet and took a few staggered steps forward. He made it a few steps into the narrow section, but again his vision swirled with spots in front of his eyes, and he backed away towards the safety of the wider path. He couldn’t do it. Cursing his fear and stupidity, he stood for a long time hoping to see Dan coming across the cliff instead, never taking his eyes off the path fading into the mist ahead. Finally, as he started to shiver uncontrollably and tears started slipping down his cheeks again, he turned and made his way back to the house. 

Phil was so disappointed with himself. His fear of heights had never really held him back before. He usually just avoided situations where he didn’t have to confront his fears. Now, however, he felt so inadequate. He wanted desperately to help Dan but couldn’t make it over the cliffs to him. The maze of country lanes between the farms nearby also caused him to hesitate, his inadequate sense of direction in the fog would probably mean a fruitless hunt for the road Dan’s house was on. 

Would Dan even want to talk to him? Even if Dan didn’t want to see him, Phil wanted to at least attempt to make up for his mistake of yesterday and be there if Dan changed his mind. It was pointless, however. He couldn’t see himself attempting the cliff journey again by himself. and he didn’t know if Dan would ever come this way after what had happened. Wrapping himself miserably in the throw, he made himself a sandwich, no longer hungry but realising he had to eat. He forced most of it down and spent the rest of the late afternoon moodily staring into the darkening skies, before giving up and throwing himself on his bed, finally passing into a restless doze.


	10. Severe weather warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for descriptions of injury in this and the next chapter

Phil awoke stiff and sore, and thirsty. Looking at his watch he realised with surprise that he’d slept all evening and night without waking. The sleep had done him some good as he was no longer so tired, but his mood persisted in the lowest state he’d felt in a long while. He lay staring at the ceiling, this time without his glasses. It felt like too much effort to put them on. Self-criticism made his mind return to his perceived failure on the cliff edge, alternating with his guilt about upsetting Dan. He blamed himself firstly for his curiosity which had so distressed him, and then for not being able to be there for him yesterday when he might have been needed the most. His misery persisted and despite trying to think of happier times with Dan, he wasn’t successful for long. 

Eventually, sick of not being able to control his mind, he jumped up and had a long shower. He let the hot water run over his neck and shoulders, breathing in the steam and letting the sound of the water relax him. He spent as long as he could there, only stepping out once the water started to cool. The sight of the groceries, still laying on the bench, provided a welcome distraction. He made breakfast, taking his time and distracting himself by cooking a larger than normal meal. 

He spent the morning trying to unsuccessfully write and listlessly looking out the window. The fog had disappeared overnight, but in its wake, it had left a bank of ominous grey-black clouds, rising far up into the sky. The cloud bank moved slowly forwards as it enveloped the headlands and beach. By mid-afternoon, small spatters of rain starting to patter on the window as the wind started to gust and whip the branches of the trees behind the house. 

A half-remembered thought came pushing through the remaining fog in his mind. A storm Michael had said. Was it something to worry about? He hadn’t remembered any storms in the weather reports this week. Getting up, he switched on his mobile. No reception. Instead he turned on the old transistor radio lying on the mantelpiece, feeling annoyed yet again at the lack of mobile reception which seemed to come and go with the changes in the weather. Being able to google a weather report would have been very handy. He ignored the songs on the radio which were more suited to his parents’ era, listening with half an ear for any weather reports. After the hourly news bulletin had finally come and gone, the weather report finally arrived. 

_Strong wind warnings for all coastal areas with heavy storms expected tonight. A sheep weather alert exists and there are warnings for all ships in the area. High tides are expected. Avoid all unnecessary travel due to excessive rain and flooding. Power outages may be expected._

Phil listened with growing alarm as the weather alerts continued to roll out. This storm almost sounded worse than the one he’d been through several months before. He remembered how he had failed to bring in any wood for the fire, expecting to be able to use the small heater in the lounge room, which even when working was barely enough to raise the temperature by a couple of degrees. The power outage had taken him by surprise the last time and the lack of dry firewood had made the house dismally cold. London rarely had power outages, but they seemed a more frequent occurrence in this area, especially with bad weather. He didn’t want to be unprepared this time. 

Jumping up and not bothering to stop to put his boots on, he ran outside to the firewood pile, only to find it still damp and growing steadily wetter from the light rain now falling. Kicking the nearest log in a sudden fit of temper, he realised he would have no dry firewood unless he actually brought some logs inside. Grabbing a few, he trudged back to the house and dumped them unceremoniously in the narrow hall. He hoped they would at least dry out by tonight. Judging by the state of the logs that was a slim hope, however. If not, it would be a long cold night yet again.

After fastening the windows tight with the locks and making sure the house was as secure as he could make it, he made himself a cup of coffee and a snack and went to sit by the window. The afternoon was growing darker as evening drew near. He couldn’t concentrate on anything. The oncoming storm had taken his mind off recent events, but he didn’t know which was worse to occupy his mind. He got up to put his plate and cup in the sink and decided on trying to read a book to keep himself from thinking. Suddenly, a flash of black caught his eye, moving quickly past the window. Curious and hoping against hope, Phil moved to the window, trying not to get his hopes up. On looking out he saw a familiar form, moving rapidly down the path to beach. 

“Dan! Wait!” 

Phi yelled out the window, hoping Dan would hear him. He didn’t turn however and moved out of sight down the hill. Phil wheeled around and scrabbled about, looking for his keys – under the grocery bags. His coat – tossed in the corner of the lounge. His boots took even longer to find, buried under the pile of wood near the door. Wincing at the dampness seeping through into his feet from the wet shoes he threw the door open and slammed it shut behind him. He ran over to the path and launched himself haphazardly down the path, falling onto his backside several times as the wet sand slipped underneath him. 

On reaching the beach he looked around hurriedly. Dan was nowhere to be seen. The beach was deserted, and the waves were enormous, whipped up by the rising wind and tide. In the dim light he finally spotted a figure at the end of the beach, moving onto the rock platform. Pushing his misgivings aside, Phil strode off along the beach, following along the edge of the small dunes as the tide didn’t allow any room to walk along the beach. He walked hurriedly, trying to avoid the driftwood and small stones littered around. 

The light was so dim by the time he reached the rock platform that he could hardly see where Dan was. He strained his eyes to see, finally spotting him close to the edge of the ocean, his pose mirroring the one where Phil had first met him. His coat swirled around him and his hands were shoved firmly in his pockets, but the expression on his face couldn’t be made out in the gloom of the oncoming evening. Phil was alarmed to see how close the waves were crashing near to the still figure. 

Phil was hesitant now, a change from his determination of yesterday and rushed walk along the beach. He found himself at a loss of what to say. An apology was certainly in order, though ‘sorry’ didn’t seem adequate. As he lingered near the rock edge for a few more minutes, he remembered the growing closeness between them over the last few weeks. Dan had seemed to be liking and expecting his company. He felt like they had become friends. Friends would definitely not hesitate to apologise. Finally making his mind up, he jumped up on the ledge and made his way carefully and uncertainly towards the far end of the platform. 

The waves crashed with a pounding force several metres over the edge, as high as Phil had ever seen. Spray hit his glasses and face making him blink, the water droplets combining with the rain now streaming down his face. Making his way closer he became more and more worried about how near Dan was standing to the waves. A sudden surge could pull him into the ocean at any minute. Dan hadn’t moved however, seemingly uncaring to the danger he was in. Concerned that a surprise could make Dan unintentionally more in danger if he was startled more towards the edge, Phil called out a soft greeting, enough to make himself heard over the waves but not so loud to cause alarm hopefully. 

“Dan? Dan!”

There was no answer as Dan remained seemingly lost in thought and staring out to sea, one hand held loose against his side and the other firmly shoved in his pocket, holding something that made the side of his coat bulge out in unusual angles. 

Moving nearly to Dan’s side, Phil tried again, nervously watching as the surging waves sucked back everything in their path. 

“Dan.”

This time his greeting was acknowledged. Dan’s head turned around, but he didn’t jump. His approach had probably not been as quiet as Phil had presumed. Dan’s eyes were hooded, and he remained watching as he firmly shoved whatever he had been holding back further down into his pocket, the object tight and difficult to move. He took his hand out to clasp nervously together with the other. His fingers twisted and turned as he waited for Phil to speak. 

Phil decided to come straight out with an apology. There was no point in useless greetings. 

“I’m…I’m so sorry…. I feel awful…. I never should have looked in your room without permission. I invaded your privacy.” 

Phil stuttered out the awkward, stammering apology as he moved to stand next to Dan, facing him and turned side on to the waves. He thought quickly of what to say next, as no reaction from Dan seemed forthcoming. His head had lowered, and he was looking down at the rocks, his hands now grasping his coat around himself tightly. 

“I feel awful because I feel like we’re friends. At least I hope so. I’ve been having so much fun with you and I don’t want to lose that.”

At the word ‘friends’ Dan’s head had risen sharply and he was now looking intently at Phil, still not reacting but seemingly waiting for something. 

“Will you ever be able to forgive me? …. Please?”

At that, Dan’s mouth curved in a tenuous smile. Relief flooded through Phil as a definite nod followed. He let out a large shaky breath, as Dan’s hand raised hesitantly up, not stopping as he reached his fingers towards Phil’s face. 

All of a sudden, an enormous crash sounded right next to them, as an unexpectedly large wave broke unnoticed right next to them and surged forwards, capturing them in its path and making them stagger with the force. Dan took a couple of large steps backwards, managing to keep upright with his steadier balance and surefootedness. Phil however was not so lucky. Stumbling he felt himself being dragged first back to the cliff and then the other way towards the end of the ledge as the wave receded. Fear rose in his chest as he realised he was about to be sucked over the edge. 

“Dan! Help me!” 

Phil flailed his arms uselessly as his staggering path took him so close to the edge that he could see the ocean below the jagged rocks. A sudden strong grasp on the back of his coat pulled him backwards, as Dan shoved him hard back towards the cliff with his other hand. It was enough to halt Phil’s progress towards the edge, but the momentum Dan had used to shove Phil backwards was too much. Dan stumbled, losing his footing. Time seemed to slow to almost a standstill as Phil watched on in horror. He could do nothing as Dan fell into the end of the wave surging back into the ocean. For a moment he seemed to grab onto the edge and temporarily slowed his fall, however the power of the ocean was too much.

“Dan, noooooo!” 

Phil screamed in horror, frozen to the spot, as the final drag of the wave made Dan’s head strike the edge of the rocks. His already weakened grasp loosened, and he fell downwards into the blackness of the heaving ocean.


	11. Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for descriptions of injury, sickness, mild swearing

“No, … no, …. oh my god, no. …. Dan….” 

Phil’s words were broken. He was too scared to move, frozen in shock and staring out to where Dan had fallen. His breath came in huge gasps as he felt panic and pure terror set in. For a few moments he could see nothing, the dark waves and clouds seeming to blend into one, hiding any sight of Dan. He finally managed to will his legs to move, cautiously moving to the edge, shaking in terror that another large wave would come at any moment. The waves hitting the platform broke near his feet, but he could see no large swells coming in at present, so he concentrated on trying to search for Dan.

Wiping his glasses and then eyes from rain and spray, he looked over and scanned the waves, straining his eyes amongst the foaming peaks. The dimming light made it virtually impossible to spot him. There was no Dan to be seen and he spent endlessly long seconds looking back and forwards, becoming more and more distressed. Phil immediately blamed himself for what had happened. If he hadn’t lost his balance. If he hadn’t distracted Dan from looking at the waves. If he hadn’t followed him to the beach at all, then maybe none of this would have happened. Guilt made him savage himself with thoughts that became more and more bleak as the seconds went on. 

Just as he was about to lose hope, he scanned further out to sea. A black shape appeared in the water, further out than Phil had previously been looking. A glimmer of hope rose, as he fought to keep sight of the shape amongst the peaks and troughs. 

“Dan! Oh fuck, Dan! Can you hear me?” Phil yelled as loud as he could. 

There was no response as Phil waited anxiously, his heart in his throat. He couldn’t see Dan moving, just a still black figure slowly floating out in the swell. 

Phil’s mind raced. There was no time to go for help. Dan would be lost out to sea before he could even get to the end of the beach. There was nothing nearby that he could throw to Dan to keep him afloat. He didn’t seem to be reacting or trying to swim back, so there was a risk that he was unconscious or even not breathing. Therefore, there was no other solution. He would have to try and rescue him by himself. 

Swimming had never been Phil’s favourite pastime. He’d had swimming lessons as a child, and even some ‘how to rescue a drowning person’ lessons in primary school. Swimming pools were fine and even nice most of the time. Oceans, however, were an entirely different and totally terrifying prospect. He’d never been a strong swimmer in the sea, preferring to sunbathe on the beach or play beach volleyball instead. He’d mostly stuck to shore on his infrequent beach holidays, happy to bodysurf over the waves and never venturing any further out than chest height. Now, he would have to jump into his worst nightmare. 

Phil threw off his coat and put his glasses carefully in his jeans pocket, as he tried to think back to the lessons so long ago. Shoes had to come off as well, that much he could remember. He quickly untied his shoes and then decided to throw off his hoodie as well. The less weight the better if he had to try and pull to Dan to shore. Looking out to sea, he could still see Dan, but further out than before. Any further out and it would be nearly impossible for Phil to reach him. His heart hammering in his chest, he took a deep breath and tried to damp down the terror keeping him fixed to the rock ledge. Psyching himself up, he watched the cycles of the waves and waited until they had started pulling back from the edge. With any luck he could use the pull-back of the waves to get away from the cliff edge. As the next wave started to recede, he took another deep breath and dived as far as he could out into the ocean. 

The instant icy cold gripped his chest, and he surfaced choking and coughing, treading water until he got his breath back. He looked out to where he had last seen Dan and just managed to make a blurry shape out in the final last light of the fading evening. Launching himself forwards, he started swimming with all his might against the pull of the next wave which was trying to wash him back into the rock ledge. His frantic efforts didn’t seem to be helping initially and panic nearly set in as thoughts of being dashed against the rocks came unbidden into his mind. He finally broke clear of the surge after summoning all the strength he could muster and diving beneath the crest of the next wave, which made him breathless again with the icy cold. He started to shiver but kept swimming as fast as he could out to sea. 

Finally, after he thought his breath was about to give out, he reached Dan, who seemed thankfully to be floating on his back with his mouth partly open but clear of the ocean. He wasn’t moving and through the blur Phil thought his eyes were closed, the long lashes sticking wetly to his face. Phil was astounded that he was still floating with the heavy coat and boots dragging the rest of his body down beneath the surface of the tossing and heaving sea. 

“Dan! Dan! Wake up. Please, Dan!” 

There was no reaction. Phil grabbed him and pulled him against his body, doing an awkward sidestroke and keeping him afloat as he tried to work out whether Dan was still alive or not. A wave crashed over their heads and Phil rotated his body so his back was to the waves, pulling Dan in front of him to try and protect him. He put his free hand over Dan’s mouth and nose but couldn’t feel any breathing, although it was difficult to tell one way or the other with his hands being so cold. His hands were shaking too much to try and feel a pulse. What did one do if someone wasn’t breathing? A flash of remembrance penetrated through the panic, of the swim lessons and joking with his friends as they pretended to be revolted by the instructions of the teacher. Breathe into their mouth. He put his mouth to Dan’s cold lips and blew hard. As he did so, another wave crashed over their heads and Phil nearly lost his grip on Dan, choking as he went underwater. Resuscitating someone in the ocean was much harder than in the swimming pool. In fact, it was virtually impossible. As they came up through the wave, he thought he felt Dan stir, but didn’t trust himself to be sure. Again, a breath into the cold lips. Half sinking as he tried to tread water with one arm and hold Dan close, his other hand protecting Dan’s mouth. And again, as another wave crashed over their heads. As the wave passed, Phil took the opportunity of the trough to put his ear to Dan’s mouth. Finally, there was a weak cough and Dan started to struggle slightly. 

“Dan, stop, it’s me.”

The sense of relief was overwhelming. Phil was so glad that Dan was alive that he nearly put his lips back to Dan’s and kissed him. Now was not the time, however. They needed to get back to shore fast before they succumbed to the cold or got washed back into the rocks, or even worse dragged out to sea. Different scenarios raced through Phil’s mind as to what the next plan of action should be. The surge of the waves would make it impossible to get back onto the rock platform without injuring themselves further, so swimming around the headland was the only alternative. 

Dan had stopped struggling and was resting against Phil, his eyes still closed. As Phil started to manoeuvre him around to start swimming back to shore, he looked down on Dan’s face to check on him and was even more relieved to see he’d opened his eyes. He could faintly see Dan blinking as he tried to focus back up at Phil. 

Phil coughed out some wayward sea water that he’d accidentally partially breathed in from yet another wave and yelled above the pounding noise of the surf. 

“We have to swim to shore. I’m going to pull you, but can you kick a bit? You’re going to be really heavy otherwise.”

There was no response, but he felt a shaky hand grip his arm and move down to clasp his hand tightly. 

“Ok, then hold on to me and kick as much as you can. I’ll try and get us around to the beach.”

The light had now faded so much that Phil found it difficult to see even a few feet in front of him. The rock platform and cliffs loomed black and foreboding in front of them, the beach and surf a paler shadow to the right of them. The rain came down harder, as thunder sounded in the distance and a few jagged bolts of lightening lit up the sky in the distance out to sea. The storm was coming. 

Phil started dragging Dan towards where he thought the middle of the beach was and where he hoped the waves would be less. He made sure to stay away from the rocks on the headland, but it was difficult as the swell tossed them sideways. Waves kept half submerging them as they swept over them with regular monotony. He kept an arm around Dan’s chest and swam sidestroke as taught in the lessons with Dan in front of him, which meant swimming with only one arm, as he tried not to kick Dan with his legs. Dan intermittently gave some weak kicks to help propel them, but mostly he seemed to be trying to keep himself afloat, hanging weakly onto Phil’s arm with one hand. This meant that Phil had to do most of the work, and he was tiring quickly, now shivering uncontrollably. Dan was no better as he could feel violent tremors wracking his body. 

His terror had lessened slightly with finding Dan alive, and being out beyond the reach of the worst of the waves that swept into the headland. However, his fear and stress started to return as they inched their way along the beach, letting the waves start to carry them towards the shore. The regular crash of the waves against the sand made Phil realise that they still needed to get back in through the turmoil of the surf before they could be truly safe on the beach. The relentless surge of the waves was counteracted by the now slowly receding tide and Phil found that they were only inching forwards despite him kicking with all his might. 

“Dan, you have to help. I can’t get us back into shore if you don’t kick!”

Phil heard the panic rising in his voice as he tried to goad Dan into helping. It worked however, as Dan kicked a bit more strongly and they started to move back into shore. The waves were indeed less violent here but were still rolling in with a ferocity powerful enough to roll them over if they weren’t careful. His worst nightmares about the ocean, however, seemed to pale in comparison to the imagined horror of being torn apart from Dan if he managed to lose his grip on him. He tightened his hold until his knuckles and wrist ached with the strain. His breath came in stuttering gasps and he could hear Dan breathing heavily as well, even thought he could now no longer see his face clearly. 

The faint whiteness of the crashing surf on the beach grew larger in front of them as he moved upwards over the crest of the incoming waves. If they could only get through this next section, they would be ok. 

“Hold onto me, we’re nearly there ok. Keep kicking!” Phil yelled over the noise of the surf. 

The waves started to crash over them again as they moved into the shore. Phil’s strength was failing, unused to swimming this far, let along in the violence of the sea during a storm. They were forced underwater several times, but Phil managed to keep them mostly upright and moving forwards. Finally, Phil felt sand underneath his feet, and with the last of his energy he kicked and pulled and managed to get a firm footing in the shifting sand. Gasping for breath, and coughing after the last freezing submerge, he managed to pull Dan’s heavy weight into the shallower water. Dan clung onto Phil’s shirt, coughing nearly as much as Phil, and let himself be towed into shore. He seemed to be too weak to help anymore. 

Phil had never been so glad to reach the shore of a beach. With a final heave he managed to drag Dan most of the way out of the water, and collapsed next to him, his head swimming and chest tight. He took a moment to let the enormity of what had just happened sink in. Somehow, he had managed to get them both back into shore. They were alive and he was so grateful. He thought he’d lost Dan forever and just the thought of what might have happened left him with a lump in his throat. 

As he cleared his throat and took a big breath, shivers wracked his body and he realised he couldn’t feel his toes. Worry for Dan’s wellbeing then overtook his briefly self-pitying thoughts as he remembered that Dan had been out in the ocean for much longer. As he reached an arm out and pulled Dan close, he felt him similarly afflicted, his body wracked with shaking. Phil felt he should try and help him somehow, but he lacked the energy to sit up and check him properly. 

Dan coughed weakly again, and then rolled suddenly over away from Phil as he threw up a large volume of seawater. Retching, he tried to push himself up but slumped back against Phil, his strength obviously exhausted. Phil wrapped his arm back around him, and they both lay there for a substantial period of time, letting themselves recover. Their shivers reduced slightly as they pressed together, Phil just glad to be holding Dan close. The tide slowly receded, as total blackness fell around them. 

The sound of louder thunder nearby raised Phil to his senses. The lightning flashes were closer, and the rain was heavier than ever. Phil groaned, realising that they had to get to shelter out of the rain. He also needed to see how badly injured Dan was and to try and get help somehow. The blow to his head must have been significant and Phil, eternal hypochondriac that he was, now worried about concussions and skull fractures. He shook Dan gently, hoping he hadn’t slipped into unconsciousness again as he hadn’t felt him move in several minutes. He felt around until he could find Dan’s hand and squeezed it, fairly hard. He was glad to feel a brief squeeze back. 

“Dan, we have to get moving. Do you think you can walk if I help you?”

He felt another brief squeeze to his hand.

Sitting up slowly, he pulled his arm away and pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. His toes were no longer numb, but pins and needles made him shift uncomfortably. He looked around to get his bearings, seeing no landmarks initially that could help through the blur of the wind and rain. Feeling over his jeans, he was relieved to feel his glasses still there and he pulled them carefully out, placing them on his nose. They were smeared with saltwater but enough to see the surroundings better. Peering through the blackness, he finally found they were closer to the path up to the house than he’d first thought. 

“Can you sit up?”

He bent down to feel around Dan’s prostrate form, finding his arm and gently pushing him behind his shoulder until he had him in a sitting position. Dan’s head was bowed and he was trying unsuccessfully to try not to retch again. Phil let him settle for a few minutes as he crouched by his side, rubbing his hand up and down Dan’s back and watching nervously out to sea as the lightening played along the storm front coming towards them. 

The storm was now nearly upon them, the regular flashes of lightening lighting up the sky nearly overhead. The wind had picked up considerably, blowing straight into Phil’s face and stinging his eyes with the salt spray. A flash of forked lightening lit up the sky, followed a few seconds later by a loud burst of thunder. Too close. They needed to get moving. 

“Ok, now I’m going to pull you up. Just lean on me if you need to.”

He stood up, his knees protesting about being bent into the one position for too long. Feeling down Dan’s shoulder he clasped under his arm and tried to lift Dan up. He was heavy. Heavier than he looked from the time he’d seen him with bare arms and thin frame. But maybe it was just that Phil was totally fatigued from the long swim. Dan pushed with his other arm, finally getting himself together enough to help himself into a standing position. Feeling him sway slightly, Phil swung Dan’s arm over his shoulder and pulled him close, taking some of Dan’s weight. He could feel Dan trembling beside him, small huffs of breath near his ear as Dan clasped his other hand to Phil’s shirt.   
Phil started moving forwards, trying to carry as much of Dan’s weight as he could. The walk seemed endless, even though they were most of the way along the beach. They had to stop every few metres to let Dan catch his breath, until they could move forward again. Each staggering step, however, brought them closer to safety and Phil thought longingly of the house, and blankets, and hot coffee.

The walk up the hill was even worse. It was difficult for two people to stay side by side on the narrow sandy path, and the rain made the sand slip and slide from underneath them. For every two steps up, they slipped one step back. Phil alternated between pulling Dan by the shoulder and pushing him from the back when Dan seemed to falter. They were now in urgent need of getting to the house immediately as the storm was now directly overhead, with the rain and wind howling like a demon around them. 

As they finally reached the top, Dan seemed ready to collapse to the ground and started to sink to his knees. 

“No, Dan! No, we’ve got to keep going. The house is nearby. Stand up, please! We’re going to be hit by lightning.” 

A nearby flash lit up the surroundings, as if trying to prove Phil’s point. 

He caught Dan in his arms, struggling to keep him upright as Dan’s head fell to his shoulder. The wet black coat whipped around them, tangling in Phil’s legs and threatening to trip him up. Eventually Dan’s other arm came up and joined the other in a brief hug around Phil’s neck. The weight was taken off him as Dan raised himself more upright. Phil saw through the speckles of water on his glasses that Dan was looking directly at him, standing so close he could feel the way Dan was pressed against him, thighs and chests together. After a brief tight squeeze around his neck, Dan’s arm dropped, and he left the remaining arm around Phil’s shoulder as he moved them forwards towards the direction of the darkened house. 

Phil could barely see where the house was in the pitch black of night. He kept them to the path by feeling his way with his feet, and it was only by locating the slightly darker shadow of the looming copse of trees at the side of the house that he managed to head them in the right direction. He hadn’t left any lights on, so he nearly bumped into the side of the house a few minutes later as they finally reached it. Feeling his way around with his free hand, he guided them towards the door and leant Dan against the wall as he felt for the lock. 

“Keys, fuck, where are my keys?” he muttered. 

He couldn’t remember where he’d put them when he rushed out of the house so long ago now. He hoped with all that he had, that he hadn’t put them in the coat now left on the rock ledge. There was no way he was going back to get them, especially as the coat would have been long washed away by now. Feeling down over his jeans pockets again he drew a shaky relieved breath and let it out in a rush as he found a small bulge in his right jeans pocket. Thank goodness for tight jeans. The key was still there, deep in the crease of his thigh. He pulled and tugged the key out, made more difficult by the sodden material and his frozen hands. Several attempts were made before he finally managed to open the door. 

Grabbing Dan around the waist, he pulled him upright and moved him in through the door, pushing it closed with his foot. He tried the light switch. Nothing. Flicking the switch a few more times, he realised with a sinking heart that the radio predictions of power outages were true. At the worst possible time he would have no heater, nothing to make a hot drink with to warm them up and no light to be able to look over Dan more fully with. 

“Fuck, the power’s out. Let’s go to the lounge and I’ll see if I can get a fire going.”

As he said that he moved them forwards, striking his toe on the forgotten pile of wood lying haphazardly in the corridor. The wood that was probably still damp from earlier. 

“Fuck it, fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

Phil propped Dan against the wall again and leant down to feel the wood. As suspected, it was still damp. There was no way of making a fire now. Cursing his stupidity in not bringing the wood in earlier, he thought about what to do. He had to get them both out of these wet clothes and into something dry. 

“Ok, change of plan. We’re going to my bedroom instead.”

Manoeuvring Dan down the narrow corridor past the pile of wood and into the bedroom took more effort than it should have. He felt around for the bed and on finding it, dropped Dan unceremoniously down onto it. Dan slumped backwards and didn’t move, as Phil felt his way around the room. He made his way by feel out to the kitchen, the light better in this room with the flashes of lightening coming through the open curtains. In a kitchen draw, he found what he was looking for. A small pen torch obtained free from somewhere long forgotten and tossed at the back of the draw unused up until now. He clicked the top, and a small white light shone out, nearly blinding him as his eyes were so used to the dark. 

Making his way quickly back to the bedroom, he shone the torch on Dan’s face, anxious to see whether he could see any injuries. Dan’s face was pale, dark shadows under his eyes which were now screwed tightly shut against the unexpected light. He could also see a large graze on the side of his forehead with a purpling bruise starting to come up. Phil ran his hand over the rest of Dan’s head that he could reach. There didn’t seem to be any other bumps that he could see or feel. He could also feel, however, that Dan was now shivering uncontrollably once more. 

“We need to get some dry clothes on. I think you’re about my size. Hang on.”

Phil quickly found some clothes, two sets of tracksuit bottoms, hoodies and shirts. Making his way back to Dan, he placed them on the bed out of the way and started pulling Dan up into a sitting position again. There was a small weak groan as Dan put a hand to his head, obviously feeling some pain. 

“I’ll get you some paracetamol soon, once we get into some dry clothes.”

With some effort he managed to get Dan out of his wet clothes, apart from his boxers. He felt that would be too much of an embarrassment for them both, even though his eyes lingered on the smooth skin of Dan’s chest as he got Dan into a shirt and hoodie. He tried to avoid looking lower but couldn’t help but notice the long legs whilst pulling the tracksuit pants up. Shaking his head free from more inappropriate thoughts, he half pulled, and half rolled Dan under the duvet and piled an extra couple of blankets on him from the wardrobe. 

After changing into some dry clothes himself, he tossed all the wet clothes into the bathroom, deciding to deal with them later. He was distracted slightly by a heavy muffled thump as Dan’s coat hit the tiled floor. An image of Dan pushing something back into the coat on the rock platform flashed through his mind, and he wondered whether it was important enough to check out. No, he had to take care of Dan still. Shoving the memory back into the recesses of his mind, he gathered up some supplies from the small medical kit he kept in the kitchen and found several paracetamol tablets in the small pantry cupboard. He also grabbed his mobile from where he had last tossed it, determined to see if the reception was back on so he could call for help. 

Dan seemed to be asleep when he got back. He placed the first aid equipment and tablets on the bedside table, sat by him on the bed and anxiously placed his hand on his forehead. To his relief Dan stirred slightly and moved his head away. Thankfully just sleeping then and not worse. He shone the torch briefly over him and wondered what to do. He should go for help but the storm outside had reached its zenith. It was so loud with the wind and rain howling around that he could barely hear himself think. The lightening provided welcome flashes now that he was inside, enough to intermittently light up the room so he could check on Dan without wasting the penlight battery. 

Grabbing his mobile from the bedside table he clicked it on and peered at the reception. No bars currently. Phil decided his first task in the next few days, once he’d made sure that Dan was ok, was to find his landlord and insist he got the phone line working to the house. No longer was he going to live without phone reception or a working line. He felt guilty, thinking about the excuses he’d made to avoid pressuring his landlord. Not being contactable and peace and quiet for writing came a poor second to being able to call for help when needed. 

He thought again about going for help. If he walked to the nearest farm, then they might be able to assist, however he didn’t want to leave Dan alone anyway. With a head injury goodness knows what could happen whilst he was out trying to find someone. He decided to wake Dan up. If he stirred and seemed ok then he would leave going for help until the morning when hopefully the storm had died down. If not, …..well he didn’t like to think about making a decision in that scenario. 

“Dan. Wake up.” 

He shook Dan gently, willing him to wake up. There was no response, so he tried again and shone the penlight in his face, hoping that would make him stir. This got a better response as Dan screwed his eyes up and waved an irritable hand in Phil’s direction, managing to knock Phil’s hand away. 

“I’m thinking about whether to go for help. I’m worried about your head injury. You might have concussion.”

A bolt of lightening flashed outside as he spoke, drowning out his last words with a crack of thunder so loud that he almost felt his ears ring. As he shone the penlight back towards Dan’s face, keeping it lower this time so it didn’t shine in his eyes, he realised Dan’s eyes were open and looking straight at him. A frigid hand grasped his wrist. He was trying to speak but in the dim light Phil couldn’t work out what he was trying to say. As Phil looked uncomprehendingly down at Dan, Dan moved his other hand to grasp Phil’s same hand and turned it over. With a trembling forefinger, he traced letters on Phil’s palm. 

_Stay please_

A wave of gratitude swept over Phil. If Dan was ok enough to spell out words, then the head injury couldn’t be affecting him too badly. It wasn’t worth risking going out in the storm. It was decided. Phil would stay and look after him. 

“Ok, you’re right. Probably not the best to go out in this weather. I’d better clean up your head anyway.”

Phil pulled free of Dan’s hands and gathered the supplies together.

“Sorry this is going to hurt probably.”

He placed the pen torch on the bed near Dan’s head so it shone a little bit of light in the right direction and got to working cleaning the wound, apologising every now then as Dan winced and pulled his head away as the antiseptic stung. He didn’t have a plaster big enough to cover the graze, instead using two to roughly cover as much as he could. Finally, he helped Dan sit up slightly to swallow the two paracetamol tablets. He hadn’t brought a glass of water, and Dan winced as he swallowed them dry. He cleared the remaining first aid supplies off the bed and shone the torch again near Dan’s face. This time he could make out the words that Dan was trying to form. 

_Thank you_

Phil noticed that Dan was shivering less, but still continuing to intermittently shake. He took Dan’s hand in his as he enfolded the cold fingers and tried to warm them up, although his hands were not much better in warmth levels. Phil was worried. He’d piled as many blankets on Dan as he had spare, but it didn’t seem to be working. Dan had been in the freezing ocean longer, and although he’d tried to help he’d been mostly motionless in the water. He hadn’t had the advantage of having to exercise which had probably saved Phil from becoming as cold. He tried to think back to anything that he’d read or heard about that might help. Suddenly he remembered. He’d gone through a stage of watching mountaineering expedition documentaries on the National Geographic channel. Body heat was the key in any hypothermia situations. 

Dropping Dan’s hand, he climbed over to the other side of the bed and slid under the covers. Gently he reached for Dan and started to shift him into his arms, pulling his body as close as he could. He heard a small protesting noise as Dan stiffened slightly, tensing with the change of position. He curled his arm that was now beneath Dan around his shoulders, pulling him even closer so that Dan’s head was resting on his chest. Phil’s other arm encircled Dan’s chest and he rubbed a hand cautiously up and down his side, hoping that Dan was ok with this. 

“Shhh, its ok. Need to get you warm.”

There was silence. Phil waited, continuing to rub his hand in a soothing pattern up and down. After a short period of continuing tenseness, he felt Dan’s shoulders slowly untighten. After a few minutes Dan was totally relaxed and he felt a hand curl into chest. He continued to shiver occasionally but as Phil warmed gradually up to almost unbearable hotness, Dan slowly settled, and the tremors ceased. He felt slow deep breaths fanning his cheek as Dan slipped into sleep. Phil stilled his hand so as not to disturb him but shifted his head slightly, so his cheek was touching Dan’s hair. 

The storm outside was now settling as well. The thunderous crashes and jagged bolts of the last several hours were moving away towards the town and in its place a light persistent rain settled in. The raindrops made a steady drumming sound on the roof and windows, almost hypnotic in the way it drowned out the remaining noise of the storm and provided a steady background noise that soothed rather than jarred. 

Phil felt a heaviness settle over him as he now relaxed as well. The terror of seeing Dan fall, the exhaustion of the swim and trek back to the house, along with the myriad of worries inhabiting his mind over Dan’s state of health finally caught up to him. He allowed himself the luxury of a few tears that slid from underneath his closed eyelids. The self-blame from earlier gave way to thankfulness as he appreciated that they were finally safe. He was so glad he’d seen Dan as he walked down to the beach. If he hadn’t, he couldn’t imagine what might have happened. Actually, he could. The still black shape moving slowly outwards beyond the crashing waves lurked in the corners of his mind no matter how much he tried not to think about it. Luckily the horror of the past few hours soon subsided beneath the complete fatigue pressing on every fibre of his being and he fell into a restless sleep.


	12. Clearing to a fine afternoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter, apart from the Epilogue.   
> Warning for mild swearing.

The first thing Phil noticed when he woke up, with his eyes remaining firmly closed, was the silence. There was no rain. No thunder. No sound of any kind. The storm had passed and left in its wake a silence so heavy that it almost deafened him. 

The second thing he noticed was that every muscle in his body ached. His legs, and his arms especially from having to support Dan the entirety of the long rescue. His chest hurt from the unaccustomed exercise and even his head hurt. He wasn’t sure why, although possibly it had something to do with falling asleep with his glasses on, he thought vaguely. 

The third thing he noticed, which took a little time to sink in, was that Dan wasn’t resting against him like he had been when they fell asleep. There was a lack of warmth next to him. In fact, there was no movement and no sound of breathing. It took Phil a few moments to connect together what that might mean. When it sunk in, his eyes flew open and he rolled quickly over, putting his arm out simultaneously to try and feel if Dan was there. 

Dan wasn’t there. The bed next to Phil was still slightly warm, but there was a complete absence of the person he wanted to see and feel. Concern flooded through Phil. After the injury Dan had sustained, he should be in bed still. He shouldn’t be up and around. What on earth was he thinking? Had he got up to go to the bathroom or kitchen? 

The fourth thing Phil realised, very soon after putting the previous thoughts together in some semblance of rationality, was that there was no sound coming from the rest of the house at all. The silence continued to pervade every corner of the house, mocking Phil’s wish to hear some kind of evidence of Dan’s presence. The absence of noise filled Phil with dread. Surely Dan wouldn’t have left the house without letting him know. Was he even ok enough to be walking around? He sat up quickly, ignoring the protest of his aching limbs and leapt out of bed. 

His worst fears were soon realised. He was alone in the house. A quick check of the bathroom, kitchen and lounge room revealed nothing to explain Dan’s absence or whereabouts. On a second lap around the house he noticed that the paracetamol packet had two more tables missing, the box left open on the counter with an empty glass beside. Phil felt his spirits rise slightly as at least that meant that Dan was thinking clearly enough to look after himself. His spirits dropped however as he reached the bathroom again. Dan’s clothes were still piled in a heap on the bathroom floor together with Phil’s, leaving a drying puddle on the tiles. However, Dan’s coat and boots were missing. He’d gone outside, with a potentially nasty head injury, and no Phil there to look after him.

What on earth was Dan thinking? Had he gone home? Surely not. The walk along the cliff was not arduous but it was long, and Dan wouldn’t have been feeling the best. Phil didn’t want to think about the proximity of the path to the cliff edge with Dan having a head injury. He blocked those thoughts out of his mind before his thoughts spiralled back into the worst scenario scenes. He would have to go after him, but what if he had gone along the cliff path? His chest felt tight and already he felt sick at the thought of having to go along the path. But he would do it. If Dan had gone that way, he had to make sure he was ok. 

Another quick trip to the kitchen and Phil was searching for his keys again. He’d dumped them somewhere last night. He found them on the bench, scattered in amongst the shopping bags he’d left unpacked still. As he scooped them into his hand and turned to leave, a scrap of paper resting near the paracetamol box caught his eye. Small and seemingly insignificant on his first trip around the kitchen looking for Dan. It was the receipt from the shopping trip, previously tossed on the bench with the bags. Now hastily scrawled words were obvious from a more careful look. Phil snatched the receipt up, peering at the messy handwriting which wasn’t his. 

_gone to the beach  
back soon_

As Phil hurriedly shoved his still wet boots on in the bathroom, the only thought that could surface from the maelstrom of confusion was _‘why’_. 

The trip down the hill to the beach was hasty, and inelegant. He didn’t notice the thinning clouds, being urged away by a swirling breeze, that also whipped his hair into his eyes without him realising. Half dry sand clung to his still wet boots and covered his thighs from where he had slipped and brushed his hands dry. He’d forgotten to bring a coat, so he shivered in the slight breeze as he reached the bottom of the hill. 

Dan wasn’t anywhere on the beach, nor on the dunes. He scanned up and down the length of sand, expecting to have missed him in the first look. His eyes didn’t immediately turn to the opposite headland, not expecting Dan to want to go there at all after last night’s events. The thought was inconceivable. But, after not finding him on the beach, reluctantly he raised his eyes. The black coated figure was there, standing close to the edge of the rock platform. 

Phil’s heart sunk. What the fuck was Dan thinking? What if another wave came and swept him off again? The waves didn’t seem too high right this minute, but Phil could imagine just such a scenario happening again if there was a freak wave. After everything that they’d been through last night, how could he go back there? To put himself at risk again. To put Phil at risk if anything happened. Anger rose in his throat, nearly choking him as he clenched his fists. He broke into a jog, muscles screaming in protest but unnoticed beneath the fear and anger propelling him forward. 

He reached the headland in record time, gasping for breath with the unaccustomed exercise. He stood for minute at the edge of the rocks, catching his breath and watching the figure before him. It was like déjà vu, the scene reminiscent of the first time Phil had seen him. The waves crashed at the edge of the platform, occasionally sending a flicker of foam over to Dan’s feet and the light breeze gently moved the black coat and ruffled Dan’s curls. Dan hadn’t seen him yet, standing like a statue, hands in pockets and looking far out to sea. The only difference this time to the first time they met was that Phil could see the edge of the plasters on Dan’s forehead, a reminder that he hadn’t learnt his lesson. 

Phil was furious and breathless with emotion all at once, as the realisation struck him that the reason he was so angry was that he cared. Too much. He was so worried that harm might come to Dan because he wanted him to be safe. Seeing him putting himself at risk again brought back horrible memories that he didn’t want to face up to. Nearly losing Dan last night had clarified everything for him. He was in love with this beautiful, infuriating, and reckless man. 

A few seconds took Phil from the beach, up onto the platform and striding across to the beloved figure before him. A scattering of rocks as Phil dislodged them away finally alerted Dan to his presence and he turned his head. A look of surprise took over the previously still features as he saw Phil approaching in a thunderous cloud of rage. He turned to face Phil cautiously, hands still in his pockets and way too close to the edge for Phil’s liking. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Phil could hardly speak, the words spat out in staccato through gritted teeth. 

Dan just stood there, looking confused and oblivious. He didn’t move from his spot as Phil reached him although flinched as Phil pointed a finger directly at him, almost hitting him in the eye. 

“Haven’t you risked your life enough already? I can’t see you get swept off these rocks again. I just can’t. I thought I’d lost you last night, do you know what that did to me? I can’t lose you again!”

Phil’s words continued to tumble out, both hands now gesturing wildly. Dan meanwhile had continued to stare at Phil, his face softening as Phil’s voice became more heated. His hands came out of his pockets and one reached part way to Phil, hesitating as Phil’s voice rose to a fevered pitch. 

Phil reached the end of his sentence and took a breath to begin speaking again.

“Dan fuck it I ….”

He was halted mid-sentence as a finger from Dan’s left hand came up to rest against his lips, pressing to stop the inevitable flow of heated words. Any intent Phil might have had of continuing his berating went out of his head, as Dan softly dragged the finger on his lips around to cup Phil’s cheek with a warm hand. He was staggered and concerned to see Dan trying to form words and tried to stop him from having to speak.

“Dan….”

“Shhhh….” 

The soft sound hadn’t come from Phil’s mouth. His heart was racing again, trying to jump out of his throat as Dan brought his right hand up to cup the other side of Phil’ face. Dan was forming words again but unlike so many previous occasions where he had tried to speak, he was successful. His voice was husky with disuse but it was still the most beautiful sound Phil had ever heard. His eyes filled with tears as the words he’d so longed for and tried to encourage were finally spoken. 

“Phil, t…trust me”

Although he tried to hold them back, several tears slipped down Phil’s cheeks. Dan’s thumbs brushed them away as he continued to look intently into Phil’s eyes. His face moved slowly closer until Phil could no longer focus and their lips were just brushing together.

“Please, …. trust me.”

Phil couldn’t speak. He could feel Dan’s lips as they moved gently against his mouth, forming words he never thought he’d hear. Then, he couldn’t think anymore as Dan’s mouth deepened the pressure, turning into a light soft kiss that had Phil seeing stars behind his now closed eyelids. Dan’s lips were a caress and a promise of something more as he ended with a brief kiss to the corner of Phil’s mouth. 

Phil’s mind was now a well of differing emotions that all threatened to spill over at once. Anger and fear gave way to happiness, relief, and an up-surge of heightened emotion at Dan finally speaking. He was so overcome that he couldn’t even bring his hands up to hold Dan as he desperately decided he wanted to after Dan’s lips moved away from his. 

With a brief caress of Phil’s cheek, Dan moved away, and Phil felt a pang. He wanted desperately to take Dan back into his arms and encourage a repeat of the kiss from before. However, Dan slid his right hand down into Phil’s hand and pulled him around so they were standing next to each other facing out to sea. Much to Phil’s surprise Dan reached with his left hand into the coat pocket and started to struggle with the bulky object that Phil had completely forgotten was there. After wrestling with it and finally dropping Phil’s hand to dig it out with two hands, he brought it around and held it out in front of them.

Silver glinted in the brightening sky as patches of sunlight alternated with scudding clouds overhead and reflected off the object held so tightly. Phil caught a glimpse of two figures behind shattered glass and enclosed in a tarnished frame. Dan held it, looking hard at it for long moments, his face now an impassive mask. He seemed to reach a decision finally, as he lifted his head and felt for Phil’s hand again. Clutching Phil’s hand firmly, he raised the photograph and with a flick of his wrist the photograph frame arced through the air and skimmed lightly for several jumps over the waves until it hit a curve of green-white foam cresting slowly in towards the rocks. Phil watched with slight sadness, feeling the pressure of Dan’s hand and the warmth of his body against his, as one corner of the frame tilted into the waves. It hovered for a moment then finally succumbed to the tossing swell, disappearing beneath the waves. 

Phil didn’t dare move, wanting to give Dan some space to mourn, but also not wanting to give up Dan’s hand which was still gripping his firmly. Finally, after what seemed an age, Dan turned his head to look at Phil. Phil, sensing the movement, turned to face him. He now cautiously moved his hands up to encircle Dan’s waist, performing the movement he hadn’t been brave enough to do before. Dan turned as well, his arms moving to encircle Phil’s neck in a tight embrace. 

Phil went to speak, his mind full of questions demanding answers. But again, he was stopped from uttering them. Dan moved to press the lightest feathering of kisses against his lips. Moving away minimally, he kept his arms around Phil as Phil firmed his grip, not wanting to let go. 

“Phil, … thank you.”

Dan’s voice was still whisper quiet, husky and unsure, but firming up as he got used to forming words again. 

Phil couldn’t think of what to say, and instead went to answer by moving his head forwards to try and capture Dan’s lips in his. He was unsuccessful as Dan huffed a small laugh of frustration and amusement as he moved away slightly, obviously wanting to say something more.

“I love you.” 

This from Dan, as Phil’s mouth dropped open and then curved in a grin. Pulling Dan tighter into a fierce spontaneous hug, he buried his head into Dan’s neck briefly. Only briefly, as Dan having said what he wanted, pulled Phil into a kiss that left him in no doubt as to how much that statement was true. 

“I love you too. So much,” Phil gasped as they separated finally. 

Now Dan’s eyes were filled with tears as he gave Phil a final kiss on the lips. He bowed his head briefly, seemingly overcome with emotion; his face the happiest Phil had ever seen in the brief time he’d know him. Looking up, he grinned at Phil and backed away out of his arms. Taking Phil’s hand, he started walking away from the edge towards the beach. As Phil followed, Dan turned his head and looked back at Phil. 

“Come on. Take me away…. from here.”

“Ok,” Phil whispered, watching the lithe form slightly ahead as they walked back over the rocks and jumped down on to the sand, to walk the long journey back along the beach. Together.


	13. Epilogue – Sunny and warm

Phil awoke to a sense of peace, not felt for many weeks. No anxious thoughts crowded his mind, and he felt happier than he’d ever been. He opened his eyes to see glimpses of sunlight shining through the gaps in the curtains and watched the dust particles swirling lazily in the rays glinting off the ceiling. He shifted slightly wondering why it was difficult to move. As his senses kicked in belatedly, he realised that Dan was sprawled across his chest, head in the curve of Phil’s neck, an arm flung across his chest and their legs tangled together. Warmth and heaviness covered him wherever their skin touched. Phil moved his free arm, running it down the length of Dan’s bare back. 

Dan was still asleep, most likely exhausted from the unintentional late night they’d had together. Memories filtered back into his mind. Flashes of kisses down his chest, hands wandering up his thighs and the slide of sweat dampened skin against his own as Dan kissed him breathless. He felt pleasantly sore, a reminder of Dan above him, eyes closed and lips parted in the throes of ecstasy as Phil lay sated after his own release with his arms around Dan’s neck. As desire started to flow once more, he supressed the memories, wanting to give Dan more sleep. Time enough for that later. Instead he thought back over the last couple of months.

The terrifying night and the consequent aftermath on the headland had been a turning point for Dan, and for himself. Dan had continued to talk, his voice becoming firmer and more practiced each day. Initially it had been painful to talk too much, but to Phil’s surprise Dan’s voice had quickly become mostly normal within the space of a couple of weeks. Upon further questioning Dan had admitted although he hadn’t spoken since soon after the accident, he had continued to sing to music occasionally. Just in the house where no one could hear. Music had managed to make him transcend his negative thoughts when he allowed it. 

Phil loved hearing the sound of Dan’s voice, its unexpectedness filling him with delight each time he spoke. Dan still, however, preferred to write in the notebook most days, seeming to find it easier to write rather than speak the words. His voice tired quickly and the words were still halting at least initially. Phil didn’t mind. When they were apart Phil still found himself reading and rereading the conversations over and over again, especially as the notes became declarations of love. 

He now found himself with a boyfriend, as unexpected as it was heavenly. Dan had wasted no time once they got back from the headland that first afternoon after the rescue in sweeping Phil’s lingering doubts away about the validity of his feelings. No sooner had they had closed the door in Phil’s house then he had been wrapped in strong arms and kissed against every wall as they made their way into the bedroom. He’d been pushed down against the bed and kissed until his lips were sore. Occasional enamoured words had broken in between the kisses as they both caught their breath, only to subside under the press of lips once more. They were enough for Phil to be overwhelmed with their meaning, realising that his feelings were definitely returned and had been for some time. 

Dan had apologised briefly the next day for the mixed messages he’d been sending over the last few weeks. Phil had been correct in thinking that Dan had been about to kiss him several times. However, his predominantly self-critical thoughts had prevented him from believing that Phil could ever return his feelings. A lingering feeling of responsibility for Jonathan’s accident had also been a major block in preventing him from moving forwards in his life or in a new relationship, though this had taken a while to be admitted. Phil hadn’t managed to get the full story out of Dan until a few days later. Remembering had still been too painful and they had needed several halting conversations and notebook exchanges before Dan had finally got through all of what he wanted to say. 

“I just felt so guilty,” Dan had whispered as they lay entwined on the couch one evening. “We were the only two gay kids in town of our age, that we knew of anyway. It just seemed natural that we got together. We did love each other, but….”

Dan had trailed off into silence, pressing his face against Phil’s neck as he thought some more. Phil didn’t speak, not wanting to interrupt, instead squeezing his arms tighter. Eventually Dan shifted out of Phil’s embrace temporarily and grabbed the notebook on the coffee table nearby. Phil shifted upwards slightly so that Dan could rest back against him and write. 

_We had a great time for a couple of years, but we were so different. He liked fishing and I didn’t. I liked gaming, and he would play sometimes. But he preferred to be outside. We were drifting apart, and we didn’t realise. Eventually he kept being annoyed that I wasn’t joining him and would get my dad on-side to force me outside with him. He’d started diving by then and I had to take up drawing so I wouldn’t get bored on the beach waiting for him. He tried to get me to dive as well but it was way too much effort. Never seen the point of it. Anyway, it kept him happier if I was there on the beach at least. I talked about breaking up, but he didn’t want to be alone and it was just easier to be together._

Dan had stopped writing for a while and leant back further into Phil’s chest. Phil ran a hand up and down Dan’s arm, waiting and not sure what to say. 

“It _was_ my fault….” Dan choked out, his voice deteriorating into huskiness again as he swallowed and winced slightly. 

“No Dan. You can’t blame yourself for what happened. There’s no way you caused that accident.”

There was silence, only filled by Dan’s occasional throat clearing as he tried to get his voice under control again.

They’d got past the fact that Phil already knew some of Dan’s back story. Dan had initially been furious at the gossip that still surrounded him, but several kisses had done what arguing hadn’t. Dan had subsided into occasional mutters of annoyance as the distraction techniques worked. Eventually he’d admitted that it was actually handy as he didn’t have to relive the whole horrible story while telling Phil. They’d glossed over it from then, until the story had reared itself again now. Dan had seemed to want to talk finally. 

“It was my fault,” Dan muttered again, his hand not holding the notebook now holding Phil’s tightly. “You don’t know.”

“Know what, love?”

Dan turned his head at the term of endearment, pressing a quick kiss into Phil’s neck, and then settled back again. 

“I was the one that suggested he go out diving that afternoon. I was sick of him griping on about me gaming. I promised to come to the beach and draw if he’d just shut up. I knew the storm was coming and so did he. He was slightly worried, but I convinced him he’d have time. I just wanted a bit of peace… I didn’t know … “

Dan’s voice broke and he threw the notebook on the ground, pressing his hands to his face as a couple of tears slipped from underneath his palms. 

“No, stop it’s not your fault.”

Phil shifted sideways, so he could lift Dan’s chin up and prise a hand off. He caressed the side of Dan’s face, brushing the tears away with his thumb. Dan took a deep shuddering breath, removing his other hand and turning his head to face Phil. Phil took one look at the tear stained eyes before him and lowered his head to kiss the tears from Dan’s eyelids. He tasted hints of saltwater on his lips. 

“You couldn’t have known what would have happened. Anyway, he was the expert in diving, not you. If he didn’t think it was safe, surely he wouldn’t have gone in, no matter what you said.” 

“But…”

“It was his choice ultimately. Not yours.”

“I was pleased he went diving. I didn’t even worry when it was way past the time he normally came back. It was so peaceful. No arguing. I didn’t even think about him until the storm came, and then I realised. I tried to get help. It took too long.”

Dan buried his head into Phil’s chest again. 

“You did everything you could. It would have been too late anyway even if help had come as soon as you called. It sounds like nothing could have helped in time.”

Dan shook his head and didn’t say anything for a long time. Phil just tightened his arms again and rubbed soothing circular motions into his back. Just when Phil was starting to think Dan had maybe gone to sleep, he spoke again in a whisper.

“I guess…I felt guilty…because I didn’t love him anymore. And then he was gone, and everyone just expected me to be devastated. I was sad, but not enough. I felt …. so horrible. People kept asking me how I was, and I couldn’t explain. I couldn’t face anyone.”

“Is that why you stopped speaking?”

“It wasn’t a conscious decision. Like I said it was just too hard to explain. I couldn’t think. The words wouldn’t come. It was just too difficult to get the words out. To explain that I caused it…”

“Shhhh, Dan. No…. don’t talk like that.”

Dan just shook his head, curling more into Phil’s side and slipping his free arm around Phil’s waist, hand clenched tightly into Phil’s shirt. 

“One day I’ll make you see. It was never your fault Dan.”

Phil had waited for a response but there was no answer. He wasn’t surprised as it was the longest conversation they’d had so far. He wished he could reach the notebook on the floor, wanting to see if he could encourage more dialogue. He still wanted to try and convince Dan that the accident was not his fault but eventually decided it would probably take a lot longer than one conversation. He settled for pressing his lips to Dan’s head and closing his eyes as Dan relaxed against him. 

Over the next few weeks they had gone over it several more times. Initially only when Phil brought it up, but gradually Dan had opened up more, initiating talking when Phil had caught him looking pensive and had commented on the fact. They’d progressed from Dan talking about it being his fault, to talking about it more realistically, although after that first conversation most of the talking about that subject had actually been written. Dan seemed more able to open up about difficult subjects such as this through pen and notebook. 

Phil had also apologised several times for the intrusion that had so upset Dan in the bedroom. He felt it was his fault for making Dan so distraught that he needed to go to the headland on that night. If he hadn’t been such an intrusive idiot then maybe they wouldn’t have ended up in such a dangerous situation. 

After the third apology a month later, however, Dan had stopped him with a hand to his lips again. 

“Phil don’t. I stopped being angry with you shortly after. In fact, I thought about coming after you that night, but I was a bit embarrassed about how I reacted.”

Phil had grimaced and tried to open his mouth to deflect from Dan’s self-censure, but he was overridden by Dan taking a large breath and blowing it out slowly

“I’m actually glad things happened the way they did.” At the sight of Phil’s raised eyebrows and incredulous look Dan had corrected himself. “Not me falling off the rocks you spork. My head still hurts. No, when you left me at the house the night before. All I could think of was that you’d left, and I hadn’t told you how I felt. I suddenly realised how much I missed you and how much I wanted you there with me. To move forwards with you.”

Phil pulled Dan into a hug as Dan slid his hands up Phil’s chest and played with the buttons on his shirt. He continued to explain slowly.

“I also realised that my feelings about Jonathan were still holding me back. So I spent all night thinking about how I could get closure. I went to the graveside the next day because…” He paused there, and his hand trembled slightly on Phil’s neck. 

“It’s ok Dan, you don’t have to tell me. Michael told me what day it was.”

Muttering under his breath, Dan cursed the willingness of the town’s inhabitants to discuss things that weren’t their business. 

“Well, anyway. I decided that the only way to get closure was to say goodbye. Permanently. To _all_ the memories. I’d already given all the rest of his things and the photos to his parents ages ago and so I decided to throw the photo into the sea as it’s the only memory I still have of him. If anyone is to blame for what happened to us, it’s me, not you. I saw the clouds rolling in and thought about delaying to the next day, but all I wanted was to say a final goodbye and then to come and find you.”

After thinking for minute, Phil finally made a decision. 

“How about we drop all the blame on both sides, and agree that both events were horrible accidents that nobody could have predicted?”

Dan looked at him for a few moments, considering this statement. Finally, a corner of his mouth lifted. 

“You might have to remind me a few more times, but ok.” 

“I’ll remind you every day if that’s what it takes.”

“Not every day. I want to try and forget. You’ll help me just by being here with me.”

Despite the agreement, Phil knew it would take a long time for Dan to get over the trauma of the last few years. If ever. However, he gradually saw the sunnier aspects of Dan’s character shining through. Smiles greeted him when Phil opened the door each morning to let him in. The dimples in Dan’s cheeks were ever present, even when they weren’t talking. Laughter now filled the house as Dan’s teasing scrawl filled more of the notebooks and softly spoken teasing became more frequent. 

Spontaneous displays of affection increased with Phil finding himself subjected to arms around him and kisses all over his face when he least expected it. Not that he minded. In fact, he couldn’t get enough of the contact. He loved the warmth that Dan’s arms brought and the soft feel of his lips. Kisses progressed to more passionate embraces, and eventually to the situation that Phil found himself in now. 

He stretched, his legs aching a little from being still for so long, keeping one arm around Dan’s waist as he tried not to wake him. It didn’t work, however, as Dan finally stirred and made a sleepy humming noise. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“S’ok, must be late. M’hungry,” Dan mumbled, his lips pressing small kisses to Phil’s chest as he spoke.

Phil snorted. Dan’s appetite had increased over the last few weeks. He was now spending most of his time at Phil’s place, and despite Dan bringing groceries over, Phil found himself making more trips into town than ever. He hadn’t asked Dan to come on these trips, knowing he’d not want the gossip and innuendo to focus on them. He resented the time away from him, although Dan hadn’t seemed to mind too much, spending the time apart practicing his drawing in Phil’s now discarded sketch books. 

Phil had been slightly concerned that maybe Dan didn’t miss him as much as Phil did him, as he seemed to cheerfully wave Phil off whenever he needed to walk into town. Whereas Phil was slightly despondent all the way there and back until he could take Dan in his arms again and see the smile he loved so much. This concern lasted until he realised why Dan was so occupied every time Phil went out. On arriving back early one day he caught Dan looking at his old drawings, the ones of Dan’s eyes especially. As Dan smugly looked up, Phil’s face turned the colour of the setting sun outside, realising how many drawings Dan now had access to. Dan, however, had said it was sweet and that Phil’s skills were improving with the practice. Phil had sighed, and the next time he went to leave to get more groceries Dan had already got out the sketch books and turned to the pages that reflected his eyes. 

Those eyes now turned to his, as Dan raised his head, resting his chin on Phil’s chest. 

“Pancakes?” Dan asked hopefully, a small smile playing at his lips.

“No ingredients left. We finished the last of the eggs yesterday. And the butter.” 

Phil’s stomach growled as the thought of food made him realise how hungry he was too. He was suddenly jolted as Dan moved upwards and out of the covers, then pulled halfway off the bed as his arm was grabbed and Dan attempted to move him into a sitting position. Phil gave a small scream and managed to grab the bed head with his other arm to arrest his fall. 

“My place then. Come on.”

“What?!”

“My place!” Dan said brightly, his voice now muffled as he pulled on a shirt. “I’ve got plenty of ingredients for pancakes there. The eggs probably need using up too. About time you came over to mine, instead of me walking over here every day.”

Phil admired the long legs in front of him as Dan pulled on some boxers. His thoughts shifted to alternative activities to breakfast as his gaze lingered, but his half formed ideas were disrupted as Dan pulled the sheets totally off him, exposing him to the cool air.

“Hey!” 

Phil grabbed a shirt off the floor, and pulled it over quickly, trying to keep warm. 

“No time for that. Maybe later.” Dan’s voice held a smirk as Phil glared upwards at him. “Come and help me make pancakes at my house.”

Phil groaned as Dan grabbed his hand again and dragged him out of bed. He was beginning to learn that once Dan had an idea in his mind, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. 

Ten minutes later they were both dressed and walking along the cliff path, this time hand in hand. As they got near to the headland, Phil slowed remembering the horror of the previous walk along here and his failure to get past the narrow cliffside section subsequently. He could feel his face turning pale, as his heart started pounding and his hand started shaking in Dan’s grasp. 

“Phil what’s wrong?”

Dan stopped and turned to face him; his face tight with concern as he realised how much Phil was affected. 

“Phil, talk to me.”

“I… the cliff…. That night…..I couldn’t…..”

Phil couldn’t continue as he shut his eyes again. He felt arms enfold him as he was drawn into a tight embrace with Dan’s breath ghosting over the side of his face. 

“Phil, it’s ok, I’ve got you, it’s ok.” Dan repeated the words over and over as Phil gradually relaxed in his arms. He concentrated on the sound of Dan’s voice, its smooth timbre shutting out the sound of the wind and waves below. It was several minutes before Phil could open his eyes again. 

He found Dan looking into his eyes, his eyes narrowed and mouth in a grimace. 

“Dan, I don’t think I can…”

His mouth was stopped with a brief kiss. 

“Phil, trust me.” The words were an echo of those on the headland, but this time Dan’s voice was confident. Sure. Phil found himself closing his eyes again to keep the memory of Dan’s voice clearer in his mind. 

“Good, keep your eyes closed.”

“Dan…”

Another kiss.

“Trust me.”

Phil drew in a sharp breath as the arms left him but was relieved to feel Dan’s hand clasp his own again. His other hand was similarly enclosed in Dan’s grasp. Phil was confused. Dan must be standing in front of him, facing the wrong way. 

“Follow me.”

Phil felt his hands pulled gently forward as Dan presumably started walking backwards along the path. He tightened his grip until there was a small sound of pain from in front of him. A gentle quick pressure on his lips relaxed him slightly. 

“Phil, relax, I’ve got you.”

“Talk to me. Dan, talk to me please.”

Dan obliged, continuing to move them forward along the edge as he started to tell Phil exactly when he started falling for him. Thus far he hadn’t divulged any of this information and it was enough to make Phil nearly forget about the cliff edge to his left. 

“You were so chatty. I couldn’t believe you kept talking to me. I didn’t think you would want to be friends after I didn’t talk to you. But after you asked me in that first time, well …. I nearly said yes. I really wanted to. You seemed so nice. And so friendly.”

Dan paused to shift them slightly to one side, presumably around a rock in the grass verge. 

“Then when you started writing in the sand to try and talk to me, that’s when I knew.”

“Knew what?” Phil found his voice, albeit shaky and unsure. 

“I knew you were special.” Dan stopped briefly to press another kiss to Phil’s unsuspecting lips. Phil unsuccessfully tried to capture Dan’s mouth for a longer kiss but was disappointed as Dan moved away again to start moving them forwards again. “Plus, you had a cute butt.” 

“Oh my…. Dan!” Phil spluttered as he stumbled over his own feet, his heart leaping in his chest. Dan caught him before he fell forwards. Laughter filled the air as Dan pulled him into another embrace. 

“Open your eyes.”

Dan’s voice was slightly husky now with the excess of talking. 

Phil cautiously opened his eyes, and to his surprise they were beyond the narrow cliff edge and nearly on the path to Dan’s house. He looked up at Dan, staring at the now familiar face before him. Dan was grinning brightly and looking very pleased with himself. 

“Come on, mmmfff”

Phil put his hands to the side of Dan’s face and proceeded to kiss him with all the thanks and passion he could muster in his frazzled state. By the time he stopped, Dan was giggling through the kiss and pressing his hands to Phil’s chest to push him backwards. 

“Dan, thank you. I couldn’t have got across there without you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I’ve got a favour to ask.”

“What?” 

“Come on, I’m hungry. I’ll tell you after breakfast.”

Several hours later, Phil was lying on the couch with his empty plate on the floor beside him and Dan in his now usual position lying half on his chest. Phil groaned as Dan shifted his weight slightly. 

“Ugh. You’re too heavy. I’ve eaten too much.”

“Hmmmm.” 

Dan was lazily running his finger back and forwards along Phil’s collarbone and didn’t answer. He sounded half asleep. 

“So, what was that favour you were going to ask?”

Dan’s finger stilled. There was silence. Phil waited but Dan didn’t answer. 

“Is it that bad?” Phil asked slightly nervously. 

Dan sat up, perching on the narrow edge of the couch not occupied by Phil. He didn’t look at Phil directly, instead looking around the lounge room, carefully avoiding Phil’s eyes. Phil sat up as well, wincing as his stomach lurched under his tight jeans. He took Dan’s hand in both of his, nervously playing with his fingers. Surely it couldn’t be that bad? But Dan was still looking away and Phil couldn’t see his face. 

“Dan?”

Brown eyes turned back to look into his briefly and then turned downwards, and it was another minute of anxious worry on Phil’s part before Dan pulled his hand out from Phil’s. He moved it hesitantly around Phil’s back and pulled the notebook and pen out of his jeans pocket. Phil was now even more nervous, realising that Dan himself was too anxious to speak. 

_want to ask you a favour_

“Yes, you said that Dan. What is it?”

Dan paused again and started to write, his hand shaking slightly. Phil waited anxiously as the words formed before his eyes. 

_can you please help me clean the house_  
_I don’t think I can do it by myself_  
_too many memories_

“Of course I will?” 

Phil was so relieved but confused at the same time. What was the issue here? Dan had regularly helped him clean his house; in fact he’d done most of the cleaning in the last few weeks whilst shooing Phil off to write. He could understand the memories causing Dan distress, but it seemed more than that. More words were then formed in the notebook as he watched closely. 

_i was thinking that maybe you didn’t need to keep renting  
seems a waste of money_

Phil didn’t quite understand the words. They seemed to dance before his eyes, the meaning just out of reach. He looked up at Dan, confused but hoping. 

When Phil didn’t say anything, Dan also looked up. His fingers played nervously with the pen, rolling it in between his fingers. 

“Well?” Dan asked softly, his gaze not quite meeting Phil’s eyes. 

Phil didn’t want to think around the words in case he was wrong. He grabbed the pen and notebook out of Dan’s hands and put them on the floor beside the plates. He wanted to hear the words themselves. 

“I don’t understand. Tell me?” Phil lifted Dan’s chin with one hand and looked directly into Dan’s eyes. The eyes that were now regarding him with a mixture of anxiousness and fondness. 

“Move in with me?” Dan’s voice could barely be heard but it was enough for Phil to finally gather their meaning. His answer was to push Dan back abruptly on the couch and kiss him senseless. 

Sometime later, Dan spoke up from his position underneath Phil, who was pressing small kisses up and down Dan’s neck. His voice was now more confident again, and slightly amused. 

“So, I guess that’s a yes then?” He gasped and squirmed as Phil found a particularly sensitive spot. 

“Yes! Of course it’s a yes. When can I move in?”

Dan laughed loudly and brightly. His hands moved suggestively down Phil’s back. 

“As soon as you like. But that’s why I need you to help clean. It hasn’t exactly been on my priority list.”

“The sooner we start cleaning, the sooner I can move in!” Phil raised his head and pressed an enthusiastic last kiss to Dan’s lips. He sat up quickly, ignoring Dan’s sudden pout with a smirk of his own. “Let’s start cleaning now.”

Dan sighed as he sat up, rubbing his neck absently, presumably as a couple of small marks that Phil had left were irritating him. 

“Well sorry. We need to get some cleaning supplies first.”

“Oh no! Really?”

“Really.” Dan grimaced as he stood up and grabbed the plates, walking them over to the kitchen sink. “I have enough for basic cleaning, but not for the amount of cleaning this place needs. It’s a dump.”

Phil looked around and had to agree he was right. The place was tidy enough, but the dust was even thicker since he was last here, the floors looked they hadn’t been cleaned in months and he could barely see the trees outside through the griminess of the windows. 

“Well I guess we could go back to my place. I’ve got a few cleaning supplies we could use.”

Phil wasn’t looking forward to the trip back along the cliff, no matter how distracting Dan had managed to make the trip earlier that day. He looked back at Dan, who had quickly rinsed the plates in the sink and was piling the frying pan in on top of them, leaving them to wash properly later. 

“Well….” Dan turned to look back at Phil. He shoved his wet hands uncaringly in his pockets, seemingly thinking hard about something. 

“What surprises are you going to spring on me now?” 

“I was thinking of paying Michael a visit. I haven’t seen him for ages. Want to walk into town with me?”

“Isn’t it far?” Phil was surprised but slightly elated that Dan was thinking of them both going into town. Dan must not care now about the gossip that would invariably ensue once they were both seen together. 

“No, I actually live closer to town than you, the coast curves so that it’s about half the distance from here to town, than from your place.”

Phil stood up and moved around the couch. In a few strides he’d reached Dan and pulled his hips close into his whilst moving his mouth close to Dans.

“You realise that once Michael sees us together, he’ll tell Margie and then it will be all over town by tomorrow morning?”

“Yes Phil.” Dan’s voice was amused as he wound his arms around Phil’s neck. “I do know how the town gossip chain spreads. I might leave you to do the talking with Michael though.” 

Phil’s response was to pull him even closer and take up where he’d left off a few minutes earlier. Brief kisses on Dan’s neck meant only to last a few minutes, turned into a trail of clothes strewn across the floor leading to Dan’s bedroom. This time Phil’s mind was hazily aware of Dan beneath him, straining his wrists under Phil’s grasp as he entwined their hands against the bed above their heads. He heard Dan gasping out Phil’s name as he writhed underneath him, pushing his hips up over and over again. The ecstasy as they both came together was seared into Phil’s mind.

Afterwards, he spent a long time just kissing Dan’s chest and neck over and over, as Dan entangled a hand in his hair and struggled to catch his breath. No words were uttered this time and the silence was only interrupted by the sound of Phil’s lips pressing occasional kisses to Dan’s parted lips. It was mid-afternoon by the time they finally ventured into town. 

The walk, as Dan had said, was much shorter and pleasanter from Dan’s house. An avenue of large trees on both sides, stretched like a green leafy canopy overhead for most of the way. The branches were spaced enough to let dappled sunlight through and Phil watched the light playing on the leaves and the shadowed patches of grass beside the road, turning his head intermittently to study Dan’s face as the sunbeams highlighted the small smile that Dan now wore. Their hands were joined and swinging gently, and Dan was quietly humming something that Phil couldn’t quite catch. He was too happy to interrupt and ask what the song was. He instead listened as the tune melded with the sighing of the breeze through the trees. 

As they entered the final stretch into town, Phil dropped Dan’s hand, not wanting to pressure him into any displays of affection that he wasn’t ready for. His breath hitched, however, as his hand was immediately taken back up and squeezed firmly. He looked at the figure beside him, running his eyes up from their clasped hands, up over his own t-shirt that Dan had grabbed hastily off the floor and finally up to look at his face. 

Dan was smiling fondly at him, not letting Phil’s hesitance affect his happiness. 

“It’s ok Phil. Trust me.” 

And Phil found that he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this fic is finally finished! Thanks to everyone for reading it, plus the kudos and comments- it's been much appreciated. Thanks especially to @capriciouscrab for beta work and moral support <3
> 
> Tumblr:@Evening42  
> Twitter: @Evening_42


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